


Maybe This Time (two wrongs make it right)

by gravityinglass



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Ashton with kids, Bisexual Ashton, F/M, Lots of Hurt Feelings, M/M, Reunion Fic, and people learning to love each other again, demisexual luke, five years into the future fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-08
Updated: 2016-01-26
Packaged: 2018-05-05 14:50:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 33,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5379137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gravityinglass/pseuds/gravityinglass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five years ago, Ashton Irwin vanished from 5 Seconds of Summer's radar without a trace. After five years and a string of unsuccessful drummers, Luke suggests that they track down Ashton and get him to give them another shot. Luke expected Ashton to put up a struggle. The last thing Luke expected? Ashton with twin children.</p><p>It'll take awhile to rebuild what they once had, but that's a challenge Luke--and Ashton--are willing to take.</p><p>--</p><p> </p><p>  <i>“Hi, Ashton.”</i></p><p>  <i>Ashton stood there gaping, the girl from before braced on his hip. “Luke,” he said weakly. “Oh. Okay. What are you doing here?”</i></p><p>  <i>“Looking for you. Then I met this lovely lady.”</i></p><p>  <i>“Daddy, whossat?” the little girl asked, burying her face in Ashton’s sleeve.</i></p><p>  <i>“Daddy?”</i></p><p>  <i>“You’d better come in,” Ashton sighed and stepped aside. “This could take a while.” </i></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. i. running to the edge of the world

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, here we go!  
> This is my Ashton-left-the-band-and-is-now-raising-children fic, affectionately called 'kidfic'. I intended it to be part of the lashtonbigbang, but since the mods really dropped the ball on that (like, i literally sent them an ask a MONTH ago and they STILL haven't replied, and I went and sought out the individual mods and they just gave no shits) I decided to just start posting it now. :)  
> I plan to update on Mondays!

_“There is no safe investment. To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything, and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly be broken.” -CS Lewis_

 

 

 

** 2021 **

** i. running to the edge of the world **

 

“You ever miss Ashton?”

Calum paused from where he was putting away his dirty clothes into his tour case after their last show of the tour. “Yeah, I guess sometimes. Why’d you bring him up?”

“Just thinking.”

Calum hummed. “It’d be nice to have a permanent drummer again,” he said. Across the room, Michael laughed with their tour drummer. She was nice, sweet, and didn’t mesh all that well with them writing-wise. She wouldn’t be coming with them on their next tour. “I wonder what Ashton is up to now?”

“That’s what I was wondering.”

Calum shrugged. “Does it matter? He left years ago.”

“He still started with us,” Luke said. “And no other drummer has clicked. Might make it easier to write the next album if he was around.”

“Oh, come on, Luke,” Calum said, turning around to give him an unimpressed look. “We’ll write the next album the way we have the last three--with a perfectly good studio drummer. Fuck Ashton, he decided he wanted nothing to do with us, and we should do him the same.”

Luke clearly wasn’t convinced. “I mean…”

“Come _on_ , Luke, it’s the last night of a fucking awesome tour. We just played a fantastic show. Forget about the past and come party with us tonight.”

Luke rolled his eyes. “Yeah, _yeah_. Where are we going?”

\--

They had a month off between the last show of tour and heading back to LA for writing. As much as Luke tried to relax, he kept thinking of Ashton. It was strange; usually whenever their former drummer popped into his mind, it was usually in a _fuck this asshole, seriously_ sort of way and was usually forgotten within minutes. This time, though, he kept obsessing over it.

He figured it probably had more to do with the fact that he and the boys kept wanting to work with some of their older sound.

He tried searching for Ashton online, to little success. All the social media he’d had in 2016 came up dark, unused since he’d last heard from Ashton. Newer sites pulled up nothing, and he couldn’t even find new songs registered under Ashton’s name.

Ashton’s internet presence had vanished the day he had; when Luke tried calling the last phone number he had for Ashton, he got a voicemail message telling him that the answering machine was full.

Luke still didn’t understand why Ashton left the band. Their star was rising, their junior album was cranking away nicely as their sophomore album continued to do well. He hadn’t ever questioned it before, but now he wanted to _know_.

On a whim, Luke got in his car and drove to their old neighborhood. He, Michael and Calum didn’t live there anymore--security issues had gotten to be a problem, so he and Michael lived in the same high-rise building in downtown Sydney, while Calum had gone all out and gotten a ridiculous house in the middle of nowhere, because really none of them had any impulse control. As far as Luke knew, though, the Irwins had never moved.

When he got there, Ashton’s mum’s car was in the drive. He could see people inside the house--notably, Harry, who looked incredibly like Ashton had when they’d first met him. When he rang the doorbell, no one answered. Confused and upset, he went home.

Two weeks later found him in LA with the rest of the boys. They were renting a house together for three months in order to write and record their album.

It was going about as well as it ever did in an album’s inception stages. All three of them had drafts of songs in varying stages of completeness, but before any of them could really move forward, they had to decide a direction to take the album. They’d always worked with themes, but themes were kicking their collective asses at the moment.

Then there was the fact that none of them had written drum tracks and were arguing over auditioning drummers again.

“We’ve run off seven drummers in seven years,” Calum pointed out. His songs were fanned across the table in front of him. Michael had doodled a tiny family of cartoon penises on the top of two of them. “No good drummer in their right mind is going to want to work with us.”

“We could ask Josh again?” Michael suggested. His hair was its natural dark blond again, taking a temporary break from hair dye. He’d been making noises about going pink again, though, so Luke didn’t expect the blond to stay much longer. “He was fun to work with, and he gets the whole not-clicking thing.”

“He’s doing that whole reunion tour thing with--” Calum started.

“So we host auditions again.” Luke face planted on the table. “I really, really don’t want to have to do auditions again.”

“Ask Feldy for a recommendation?” Michael asked tiredly. He reached over and added another penis doodle to Calum’s song sheets. Calum countered with a tiny vagina. Luke made a small noise of despair. “He’s probably got a couple of studio drummers who haven’t heard horror stories about us, right?”

“We should bring Ashton back,” Luke said, face still smushed on the table. “He’s the only drummer we’ve ever been able to work with. Like--ever. I mean, he lasted four years and every other drummer can barely do four months.”

The silence that followed was almost painful.

“He could be dead for all we know,” Calum said finally. “And we’ve changed a lot in--however long it’s been. Four years. Five? Fuck. We don’t even know if we could still work with him.”

Luke pushed himself to sit up. “Hypothetically. He’s alive and willing to work with us. Make that our theme, getting back to our roots. Punk’s about getting out of your hometown: let’s subvert that and go home again.”

“Wouldn’t work,” Michael said immediately.

“What, going home again? Or getting Ashton back?”

“Either. Both. Whatever.”

Calum shook his head. “Luke--dude. I agree with Mikey. It’s not gonna work.”

“How do we know until we try?”

Michael leaned back in his chair. “How do we even get in contact with him?”

Calum got a look on his face, and started flicking through his phone. A minute later, he scribbled a number down on a blank sheet of paper.

“There you go,” he said, and slid it over to Luke. “You call, this is your idea.”

“How did you--”

“Ashton Irwin’s not exactly a common name in the States. Can only be so many of them in the phonebook, right? Or, well. Only so many of them in the studio contact list on the database thingy. And, well, there was only the one! So. Logically it’s probably him.”

“I couldn’t find him in Sydney,” Luke said.

“Well, maybe that’s because he’s here.” Calum pushed the paper again. “You get to call.”

Luke pulled out his phone, and, before he could doubt himself or second guess, he’d dialled the number.

“We can leave a message if he doesn’t answer,” Luke said, certain that would be the result.

To his great surprise, someone answered the phone.

“Irwin household, Cecily speaking, how may I help you?”

Calum boggled at the phone. Luke was stunned into speaking. “...um. Hi. Is Ashton available?”

“Uh, yeah, he just got in. Let me grab him.” They could hear the thunk of the phone being set down, followed by a female voice shouting indistinctly in the background.

A minute later a familiar voice came down the line, accent significantly dulled. “Ashton speaking, who is this?”

“Ashton, hi, it’s Luke.”

“Luke Hemmings?” Ashton’s voice had a tinge of surprise. “Hi, yeah, how are you?”

“Good, uh. We’re recording a new album,” Luke said. “Ashton, we’d like you to come back.”

There’s a silence on the other end of the line. “I don’t--I don’t know, Luke. It’s been--I haven’t--I haven’t really drummed for, god, four, five years now.”

Michael and Calum exchanged confused glances. Ashton loved music, loved drumming. Why would he ever _stop_? Luke was less concerned; Ashton had left the band behind, so it made sense he might have left music behind too.

“Please? Just a concept meeting.”

“I’m--where even _are_ you guys? I’m not really able to jet all over the world at a moment’s notice.”

“We’re working with Feldy,” Luke said, gesturing for Michael and Calum to stop whispering to each other. Ashton didn’t know he was on speakerphone. “So we’re working out of LA right now.”

Ashton was silent. “I don’t think that’d be a good idea.”

“We could come to you!”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea either.” Luke could practically hear the wry smile. “Life’s gotten a bit messy in the past few years.” There was a clatter on the other end of the line. “Careful, Bry-- _shit_ , I gotta--talk to you later, bye!”

The line went dead abruptly.

“Bry--I guess he’s still with Bryana, then,” Calum said into the quiet. “Was she the one who answered the phone?”

“No, it was someone else,” Michael said. “Bryana’s sister, maybe? A friend? Shit, what was her name?”

“I didn’t catch it,” Luke admitted. “Fuck. Well, that was a bust.”

“I told you it would be,” Calum said.

“Well, that’s that idea down the drain.” Michael threw his pen up in the air, then reached over and added a tiny pair of cartoon boobs to the rather impressive doodle across the top of Calum’s papers. “And we wasted time.”

“Not a waste, really. Now we know that won’t work.” Calum shrugged and slumped forward, knocking Michael’s hand out of the way. “Come on, time for plan B.”

“Getting a studio drummer?” Luke sighed. “I’m having lunch with Feldy tomorrow. I’ll ask him for a recommendation then.”

“Oi! Why are _you_ having lunch with Feldy?” Michael demanded. “Take us with you!”

“I tried to invite you! Your response was, and I quote, ‘fuck no, because jet lag’, and you misspelled _because_ and _jet lag_. Calum just gave me a key smash. So I’ll be having lunch with Feldy by myself.”

Michael groaned. “Fine.”

“You were invited! It’s your own fault! I can call Feldy, see if we can change the reservation.”

“Oh, no, don’t bother on our account,” Calum said. “We’ll just sit here and sulk and have pizza while you eat fancy salad.”

“I’m going to _enjoy_ my fancy salad.”

\--

Luke did not enjoy his fancy salad. He managed three and a half bites before making puppy eyes at Feldy’s veggie burger.

“You’re worse than my twelve year old,” Feldy said, raising an unimpressed eyebrow. “You’re worse than my twelve year old when she was four.” He took a bite of Luke’s salad and gagged. “Never mind, that’s actually just a phenomenally bad salad.”

While Luke got the terrible salad exchanged for something else, Feldy scribbled out a string of digits on a napkin and pushed it towards Luke.

“Are you still trying to set me up with your goddaughter’s dad again?” Luke asked, raising an eyebrow. “Because we’ve been over this.”

Feldy rolled his eyes. “Only a little.”

Luke shook his head and crumpled the napkin up without looking at the phone number. “Right. We’ll talk about your nosy need to set me up later, but I actually wanted to ask you a question.”

“Fire away,” Feldy said, leaning back in his chair. The cafe bustled around them, making Luke glad they were tucked into a corner.

“The boys and I are looking for Ashton.”

That caught Feldy’s interest. “What do you mean, looking for Ashton?”

“We mean--we’re trying to get him to at least consult on our next album, considering he’d the only drummer we’ve ever been able to work with on, like, a long term basis. We tried calling him but we didn’t really get anywhere. So we were hoping you might know a little more.”

Feldy gave Luke a long, unimpressed look. “Ashton’s been based out of LA for years.”

Luke’s jaw dropped. “What?”

“Yeah, he lives down in Silver Lake.” Feldy paused. “Ashton didn’t want me to tell any of you he lived here.”

“So why tell me?”

“Because he misses music. I got him in for a studio session every once in awhile. He’s still pretty damn good after almost five years of hiatus.” Feldy sighed, stirring his coffee. “It’d do him some good to be in a band again, and I know you boys will fit. You haven’t changed that much in five years.”

Luke almost objected to being called a boy; he was, after all, nearly 25 now. Ashton would be 27.

“He said no on the phone.”

Feldy snorted. “Of course he did. You’ve got to see him in person.” Feldy scribbled out an address on a paper napkin only slightly dampened by the condensation from his iced coffee. “You’ll find him here. Be kind, dress nice, and he’ll hear you out.”

“Me, or Mikey, or Cal, or all three of us?”

“Just you. He’s always had a soft spot for you," Feldy hummed. “Go around five on Monday or Wednesday, I know he’ll be home then.”

Luke didn’t go on Monday, still trying to decide if this was a road he wanted to go down, or if he wanted to know badly enough.

Wednesday, he found himself outside a charming house in Silver Lake, the front garden overgrown with flowers and a football lying on the grass. The house completely suited Ashton, Luke thought, and wondered why Ashton would have chosen to settle here. As nice as the house was, it was almost too much like where they’d grown up.

He wandered up the front path and stared at the door, painted a dark navy. He raised his hand to knock and lowered it again, considering. He could still walk away.

Luke knocked on the door and heard an unexpected shriek.

A little girl, maybe four or five, opened the door. She wore camouflage pants underneath a fluorescent orange tutu, and there was a tiara with blue fur perched on her head.

“You’re not pizza,” she declared, and pushed the door shut again.

Luke stared at the door in shock.

“Lynn, you can’t _do_ that,” a familiar voice said, muffled, before the door opened again. “I am so sorry--”

“Hi, Ashton.”

Ashton stood there gaping, the girl from before braced on his hip. “Luke,” he said weakly. “Oh. Okay. What are you doing here?”

“Looking for you. Then I met this lovely lady.”

“Daddy, whossat?” the little girl asked, burying her face in Ashton’s sleeve.

“ _Daddy_?”

“You’d better come in,” Ashton sighed and stepped aside. “This could take a while.”

\--

“Bryana and I broke up six months before I left the band,” Ashton said, after the actual pizza deliveryman had arrived, bearing a large veggie and a large pepperoni pizza. “But I’m sure you remember that.”

“You were crushed.” Crushed isn’t exactly Luke’s word of choice but _‘fucking destroyed’_ was probably inappropriate in front of the two (two!!) toddlers sitting across the table from him, munching happily at their pizza.

“Understatement. Got some pretty good songs out of it, though.”

Luke hummed, remembering.

“It was a mess-- _I_ was a mess. Then these guys were born and I had to step up. That’s why I quit the band, to take care of my kids. I screwed up and they didn’t deserve to not have their dad around.”

“It’s Lynn and--”

“Ashlynn and Bryan,” Ashton said, pointing at each of them in turn. “We mostly call her Lynn and him Bry.”

Luke nodded. “You have twins.”

“I have twins,” Ashton confirmed. “I am a single dad with two rambunctious little twins.”

“Where’s...where’s their mum, then?” Luke asked, wondering if she just wasn’t home, if their mum was the woman he’d talked to on the phone that first time, then remembering Ashton had said he was a single dad.

“She’s. Not around,” Ashton said, and left it at that. Luke caught the hint.

“That’s why you quit the band.” Luke wasn’t sure he wanted to let that go as Ashton’s only reason--judging by the twins’ age, the timing lined up--but at least here was the bare bones of a reason.

“Yeah. I had a decent bit of money saved up.” Ashton reached for another slice of pizza--yet another piece of veggie, Luke noted absently. “Lynn and Bry go to daycare and I work part time and odd hours. I still have my share of Hi or Hey, so that supplements my income nicely. And Capitol kept me on retainer as a songwriter and studio instrumentalist, since they didn’t want to completely terminate my contract.”

“Feldy said you did studio sessions for him.”

Lynn perked up at the mention of Feldy. “Is Uncle Feldy coming?” she cast a furtive glance at her pepperoni pizza. “He doesn’t like meat.”

“Neither do I, bug,” Ashton told her gently. He reached across the table to give her a paper napkin; she had tomato sauce smeared across one cheek. “He’s not coming, but if he was, he could have some of the veggie pizza like me and Luke.”

“Oh,” Lynn said, disappointed. “When can we see Uncle Feldy?”

“Maybe this weekend, Lynn.”

“Okay.” Lynn went back to her pizza, though Luke noticed she was picking her pepperoni off. She and her brother were making gestures at each other, and the more Luke watched the more it looked like sign language.

“Bry doesn’t talk much,” Luke said, hoping Ashton would get the unspoken question.

“He’s shy and deaf in his left ear. UHL from birth. Unilateral hearing loss,” Ashton clarified, when Luke gave him a puzzled look. “He’s got a hearing aid that he hates wearing, and we’re looking into a Baha when he’s old enough--it’s a surgery--but they’re not sure if it’ll help much or not.”

“Can he not have--”

“Cochlear? No, you’ve got to be deaf in both ears for that,” Ashton said sharply. He was sitting up ramrod straight, looking defensive. “We still use quite a bit of sign and try to minimize noise for him, though. He’s got a speech therapist and an audiologist and he’s just _fine_.”

“I didn’t mean--”

“No, I know you didn’t.” Ashton rubbed at his forehead. He cast a glance at Bry, checking to make sure his children were still distracted by their pizza and each other. Luckily, they were. “I’m just--he’s my son, you know? And I hate when people pick on him. He’s four and he can’t help it, and some mornings it’s hard to get him into his hearing aid. Lynn pitched a fit when she didn’t get one, but she’s--”

“I get it, Ash.” Luke put his hand on Ashton’s arm. When Ashton didn’t shake him off, he left his hand there. “They’re your kids and you want the best for them.”

“Yeah. I mean--Bry’s got an amazing sense of rhythm already. He’s been picking up drums slowly but surely.”

“Yeah? Should’ve known Ashton Irwin’s kid was musical.”

“Lynn is too. Only piano so far, and you know, they’re only so good when they’re this little, but it’s something they both love, y’know?”

They turned to small talk, Luke filling Ashton in on what had happened to their mutual acquaintances in the past few years. It was only after Bry and Lynn had wandered off to play with their toys that the conversation turned serious again.

“Even with the little ones, I think you should come back to the band,” Luke said. He had his hands wrapped around his coffee cup. Ashton had given them both decaf, though Luke thought he probably didn’t realize that.

“And Michael and Calum? What do they think?”

“I don’t think they’d say no. They were on board when we first called you.” Luke shrugged and stirred his coffee. He hadn’t yet taken a sip and wasn’t really planning on it. “If you explain about Lynn and Bry, they’ll understand.”

“I won’t abandon my kids.”

“I don’t think you’d have to.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well--plenty of groups bring along their kids. 1D had Lux, remember? Our bus is big enough for the four of us and your two kids.”

“What about crew?”

“We split buses now. Even so--eight bunks--we could have a nanny and one other person. Your mum, if she wanted to come.”

Ashton hummed. “They sleep together most nights, I haven’t figured out how to separate them. Lauren’s starting uni soon, too,” he said, considering. “Maybe she’d be willing to defer, come with us, take care of the twins while we perform, and she could travel a bit.”

“We still have to write another album before touring even becomes an issue,” Luke reminded Ashton. “We have time to figure out how it could work.”

Ashton sighed. “Right. I guess I’ll give it a shot.”

Luke pumped his fist in the air. “That’s all I wanted.”

\--

The first meeting Michael and Ashton had was a near disaster. Though Luke had reassured Ashton that Michael was completely fine with Ashton’s return in theory, in practice Michael’s reaction was to punch Ashton in the face. The sound echoed around the room, Ashton curling in on himself as Calum and Luke both started shouting in surprise.

“Okay,” Ashton said, holding his jaw. “I deserved that.”

“Yeah,” Michael said, being held back by Calum. Luke had his hands on Ashton’s face already, checking to see if it would bruise. “Yeah, you did. And you!” he added, trying unsuccessfully to wave at Luke. “Why the hell didn’t you tell us we were meeting up with _him_?”

“You didn’t _tell_ them?” Ashton demanded, and rubbed his jaw. “Jesus, Michael. You been working out?”

“Calum’s been making me,” Michael said brightly. “Cal, I’m not gonna hit him again, Christ. That was all I needed to get out.”

Calum carefully let go of Michael, who immediately hugged Ashton.

“Ow,” Ashton said, and hugged him back.

“I’m gonna yell at you more later,” Michael said, still clinging to Ashton tightly. “But I missed you, Ash, so I’ll save being mad for later.”

“So what actually happened to you? Luke obviously didn’t say,” Calum asked. Michael let go of Ashton suddenly.

“Uh, well.” Ashton’s explanation to Calum and Michael was much the same as his explanation to Luke, though it went much more poorly. Luke chalked that up to the fact that the Irwin kids weren’t there as a buffer.

“You have kids,” Calum said in flat disbelief. “You had kids with some woman and won’t tell us who, and then you decided the best way to handle it was to drop off the face of the earth. Jesus, Ashton.”

“Yeah?” Ashton kept darting glances at Michael, as if he expected to get punched again. “I have, uh. Twins. They’re gorgeous.” He fumbled in his pockets and tugged out his phone, showing them the lockscreen. It was the twins sitting together, beaming up at the camera with big smiles.

“Well, they clearly take after their mum. None of your ugly genes, of course they’re gorgeous.” Michael rubbed his face. He shot Ashton a smile to prove he was just joking. “God. Ashton with kids. I guess I always thought it’d be me and Calum to fuck up that badly first. Or, y’know, Luke, given how bad he wants to get married.”

“I do not!” Luke squeaked.

“You so do. But--as good as it is to see you again, there’s--there’s no way to make this work, right? You’re a single dad. You can’t just drop everything to tour like we can.”

“That’s what I said.” Ashton shrugged. “Luke has other ideas.”

“You have to meet them,” Luke said quietly, slinging an arm around Ashton’s shoulders. Ashton looked like he’d fall over if Luke didn’t try to support him. “The little Irwins. You have to meet them before you say anything.”

“One meeting,” Michael said, folding his arms across his chest, looking at Ashton’s phone again. “One meeting.”

Ashton grinned nervously. “How about tomorrow afternoon?”

Luke beamed. “Great!” he said, and grabbed Calum’s wrist. “Let me go call Zoe to open up a gap in our schedule--Calum, you should come with me, she’ll yell at you less.”

Before Ashton could react, Calum and Luke were gone, leaving Michael and Ashton alone in the same room. The silence was uncomfortable, and Ashton carefully avoided eye contact as he sat down at the table. He stiffened uncomfortably as Michael sat next to him.

“God, don’t tense,” Michael said, rolling his eyes. “Just a chat between bros.”

“Are we still bros?” Ashton asked, eyeing Michael warily.

“Fuck yeah,” Michael told him. “We’re, like--estranged bros, or whatever, but bros for life.” He reached over and tapped Ashton’s tally tattoo. “Inked into your skin and everything.”

Ashton nodded uncomfortably.

“We went to your mum’s house a few times,” Michael said, finally. “A couple times every year. She never slammed the door in our faces or anything, but there was always a sense of _‘you shouldn’t be here’_ , y’know? It was awful but it was the only way we knew you weren’t dead.”

Ashton looked down. “That’s my fault.”

“Yeah, it is. Your mom’s awesome, and I’ve missed her. It was kind of obvious she wanted to tell us more, but--we thought we’d done something awful to you.”

“Wasn’t like I was a drug addict dying in a gutter somewhere.”

“For all we knew, you _were_.” Michael tapped out a nervous beat with his fingers. Ashton mentally filed it away for potential use later. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, kids are a lot less worse than heroin in terms of, like, what happened to you and where you went, but--not knowing was the worst thing you could have done.”

Michael exhaled, long and slow.

“Luke won’t tell you, but he was devastated. Thought you were actually dead for a while.” Michael shrugged, then looked up to meet Ashton’s eyes. “There were a lot of awful nights that first year. Luke felt hurt, I was betrayed, Calum was trying to keep us together. I can’t say we’d have been fine with you there, since you’d have had--well. Babies. But knowing might have eased it a little.”

Michael paused, letting them sit in silence for a bit.

“So, you know. You might be my--estranged bro, or whatever. And Luke might be willing to forgive you and Calum’s already halfway there. But me? You’ve got a fuckton of making up and explaining to do before I even consider forgiving you. We clear?”

“Yeah. I deserve it.”

“Damn fucking right you do.”

There was another moment of silence. Ashton swung himself up to stand and found himself helping Michael up too.

“Ashton?”

“Yeah?”

“Who _is_ their mum?”

Ashton stopped short. “Did I not tell you? Bryana Holly.”


	2. ii. we're the long lost children

** ii. we’re the long lost children **

 

“Your smile is hurting my eyes,” Michael told Ashton matter of factly. “Stop grinning.”

“Bryana is coming,” Ashton said happily. “In more ways than one, if I have my way.” Michael groaned. Across the dressing room, Luke pretended to slam his head against the wall. Calum kept clicking away at his laptop keys.

“Yeah, we know,” Calum shouted. “Stop smiling.”

“Can’t, I’m in love,” Ashton sing-sung. Luke chucked a water bottle at Ashton from the craft services table. Ashton caught it. “Not even that can bring me down. And thanks, I was thirsty. In more ways than one.”

That set off another round of groans.

“You’re gonna spend the whole break with her, aren’t you?” Luke grumbled.

“It’s four days of no interviews and no shows. Fuck yeah I’m spending all four days with my awesome as balls girlfriend. I see you dicks all the time.”

“I’ll show you _my_ dick,” Calum deadpanned. This time Luke chucked a water bottle at him. So did Ashton. Unfortunately, their good moods weren’t enough to save the rest of the night.

The show that night was a comedy of errors. Michael’s microphone died spectacularly in the middle of their second song, forcing Calum to pick up the slack. The mic was fixed soon, but then Luke got handed the wrong guitar, one that was tuned in completely the wrong key for Permanent Vacation, leading to an awkward shuffle to get the right guitar without losing the show’s momentum.

Ashton broke two drum skins, which was annoying and required a full stop, and a splintered stick he’d overlooked in sound-check shattered in his hand and stuck splinters in his palm that he couldn’t really pick out easily without another long stop. Somehow, Calum ended up with one of Luke’s guitars and not his secondary bass in another accidental instrumental shuffle.

Thankfully, the crowd was forgiving and treated their stalls as part of the show, as comedic interludes.

“We’ve never had a crew fuck up that badly,” Ashton said as they came off after their encore, still reeling a little. Zoe had informed them earlier that they were operating with a local backup skeleton crew due to a stomach bug that was tearing through the crew so they’d been expecting flubs, but nothing on this scale. Luke was clucking over Ashton’s hand, waving one of the crew members they knew had first aid training over to help Ashton pick the splinters out.

“That’s five things that went wrong,” Michael said. “So we’ve got either one or four more bad things in the pipeline.”

“Bad luck doesn’t come in threes,” Calum scolded. “Quit being superstitious. It was just a bad night.”

“You say that now,” Michael said ominously. Then he bounded off towards his guitars to make sure nothing more went wrong with packing them up.

Of course, the universe wasn’t kind enough to let the show be the end of that night’s disasters: there was a problem with the hotel. Ashton had booked separately, paying for his own room to share with Bryana, so his room was fine, but he stayed up late trying to help Zoe fix the problem. She finally shooed him off around two-thirty, and he didn’t fall asleep until three.

One of their security guys was going to pick up Bryana at the airport at around seven AM--her flight got in at six, and even though Ashton had only managed to fall asleep around three, he tagged along. He tucked up in the backseat with his feet under him, humming along to the radio. Adam, the security guy stuck with airport duty, refused to let Ashton out of the van when he collected Bryana.

As he waited, Ashton leaned against the tinted glass window, appreciating the coolness on his face. When the door slid open to let Bryana climb in, he perked up.

She was soft and sleepy, her hair pulled into a messy braid with loose tendrils curling over her ears. She yelped in surprise when she realized he was there.

“Ashton!”

“Hey, babe.”

Bryana slid to sit next to him on the bench seat. “I didn’t expect you to be here.”

“I wanted to surprise you.”

She pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Thank you, that’s very sweet.”

He held her hand and rested his head on her shoulder as they drove back to the hotel. He clung to her back, hands around her waist, as the elevator ascended.

“Sleep?” Ashton suggested when he unlocked the door on the third try, a little pitifully. His eyes had been blurring the whole way, not least because he had taken out his contacts and forgotten his glasses.“I’m exhausted from the show last night and you’re probably dead from the redeye.”

Bryana hummed and pulled her sweatshirt over her head in that twisty way girls did. Underneath she had a sports bra, and it only took her another minute to shuck her jeans. Ashton copied her and shed his outer layers, leaving himself in track pants and not much more. She lay down on top of the covers and he spooned up behind her, loving the way she fit in his grasp.

He let his hands rest on her stomach, one hand big enough to almost span her entire waist. His fingers pressed against the lace waistband of her panties, but he didn’t dip in. They were tired and they had four whole days to get reaquainted with each other’s bodies. For now he just appreciated being close to her.

“Sleep,” he mumbled.

“Mm,” he heard her say, before drifting back off.

When he woke up she was sitting cross-legged on the bed, texting. He was curled around a pillow and she was carding a hand through his hair absentmindedly.

“We need to talk,” she said. She’d gotten dressed, in a skirt that rode up from where she sat, and a blouse he just wanted to take off of her.

Ashton’s stomach grumbled. “Food first,” he countered.

He couldn’t see her face but he could hear the breath she huffed out. “Alright. Anywhere in particular?”

“Coffee,” he said, and squirmed so he could put his head in her lap. “Bryana, _coffee_.”

She laughed and laid her hand across his cheek. “I’ll look up coffee shops nearby.”

He got dressed while she found a cafe within walking distance; they didn’t talk as they walked, Ashton waiting for coffee to become fully awake and Bryana knowing Ashton would be nonsensical until caffeine hit his system.

Their walk was quiet and peaceful, their palms pressed together and their fingers interlocked. They’d missed the lunch rush, so they were seated immediately. Bryana ordered for them both.

“So,” Ashton said, once he had coffee in him. “I looked up a ton of stuff we can do over the next few days. We’ve got four whole days! It’s gonna be great.”

“Ash,” Bryana said, and set down her ceramic cup. “I’m not going to be here tomorrow.”

“What?” Ashton blinked. “Is something wrong with your mum? You didn’t have to come, not if your mum was sick again--”

“It’s not that, Ashton.”

“Then what? Why?”

“I don’t think we’re working out,” Bryana said, and the bottom dropped out of Ashton’s stomach.

“What do you mean?”

Bryana sighed and cupped Ashton’s cheek, her other hand lying on the table between them. “Ash. You’re sweet, you’re fun. But you’re too serious for me, you’re gone too often, and I always come second to the band. I need--I need more than you can give me and I need you to be happy.” She kissed him on the cheek and reached for her purse. “I broke up with you, so I’m paying.”

Ashton knew he made it back to their hotel, but he didn’t remember much else.

Three days later he resurfaced to hundreds of panicked texts and missed calls, and a notebook filled with new, angry, upset songs. He vaguely remembered Luke letting himself in, probably with one of the spare keys their security team always had.

Luke was sitting on the desk, carefully shuffling Ashton’s new songs into a folder.

“Hey, you with me?” Luke asked gently. Ashton blinked and burst into tears. Immediately, Luke was off the desk and kneeling next to Ashton on the floor. “Hey, hey. Hey, I’m here now.”

Ashton cried harder than he had in years. He babbled to Luke about how much he _hurt_ right now, how hard it had been to let himself love her, how much he had loved her. Luke had never liked Bryana, so Ashton half-expected him to gloat. Instead, he soothed Ashton as best he could.

“You’ll be okay,” Luke said, and kept rubbing gentle circles into Ashton’s scalp. “You’ll be okay.”

It could have been hours or minutes later that Calum and Michael joined them, curled up on the floor in a comforting cuddle pile.

“You gonna be okay, Ash?”

“I dunno,” Ashton said, and blinked away tears into the cotton of Luke’s t-shirt. Michael’s head was in his lap. “I really, really don’t know.”

“What are you gonna do with the ring?” Luke asked into the quiet, when Ashton’s sobs had stopped.

Ashton inhaled sharply.

“Bad question,” Michael murmured.

“I don’t--I guess I should return it,” Ashton said blankly, and thought of the afternoon where he’d dragged all three of his bandmates out to help him choose an engagement ring for Bryana. It had been a modern ring, perfect for Bryana. Ashton had wanted to give it to her immediately.

Apparently, Bryana hadn’t had similar aspirations.

“You don’t have to do that,” Luke said softly.

“What else am I going to do with an engagement ring?” Ashton asked. He sighed. “Fuck. Next time we’re in LA I’ll return it.”

“I’m sorry, Ash,” Luke murmured. The room fell into quiet once more, and Ashton wondered when he’d feel happy again.

\--

The band liked to tease Ashton about being a daddy to all of them, but Ashton was certain that Luke should get an equally obnoxious title. Perhaps ‘Mummy’. The reason was for that was that following Ashton’s breakup, Luke was practically hovering for a full week.

Granted, Luke’s idea of hovering was producing Crunchies out of his homesickness stash and aggressively cuddling Ashton at all times. Ashton didn’t mind the Crunchies (though he was certain to rile Luke up by espousing the far superior Violet Crumble) and especially didn’t mind the cuddles.

They did a songwriting session together and came up with some halfway workable songs. Usually they butted heads over which direction to take their co-written songs but Luke was being incredibly acquiescent this week.

“You can stop treating me like glass,” Ashton told Luke matter of factly. “I think I’m okay.”

“If you’re sure,” Luke said. He didn’t let up much on the cuddling, though. To be fair, Ashton didn’t really mind that.

Michael and Calum joined them after awhile, having gone off to work on their own. After a round of small talk about their new songs, Michael said“now that you’re broken up with Bryana, you gonna explore your bisexuality some?”

Luke choked. “ _Michael!_ ”

“What?”

Ashton snorted. “Luke, it’s fine. I might, Mikey. Why, you offering?”

“I’m cool with exploring my interest in dick,” Michael started, leaning back against the couch. “Just not _your_ dick, Ash.”

Calum shook his head. “How did we end up in a band where _everyone_ is queer?”

“Birds of a feather flock together?” Ashton suggested. “Everyone’s a bit gay?”

“Stop spouting phrases. Shall we find a club and find Ashton a nice sexy rebound?”

“I think I’ll pass,” Ashton said. “I need to figure out where Luke’s keeping his homesickness stash.”

“Good luck with that,” Luke said smugly. “I’m good at hiding shiT.”

“Not as good as Ash,” Calum teased.

“Oh, come on,” Ashton said. “You know I tell you guys everything.”

\--

When Bryana called, two weeks to the day after she dumped him, Ashton almost didn’t answer. Their opener was just finishing up and they had only twenty minutes left until they were going on stage. He let the phone ring four times before answering.

“Irwin.”

“Ash, thank god. I need to talk to you.”

“And I need to go on stage, Bryana,” Ashton said. Luke shot him a funny look. Across the room Calum and Michael both stilled.

“Ashton, it’s important.”

Something about the tone of her voice made Ashton sit up and pay attention. “Bryana? What’s going on?” He carefully disentangled himself from Luke, who’d gotten extra tactile since Ashton’s breakup, and went out into the hall.

“I’m--I need to talk to you in person.”

“Last time we talked it didn’t end well.”

“Yeah, well. This isn’t a conversation to have over the phone. When will you be back in LA?”

Ashton frowned. “I’m not sure. Let me ask Luke.” He leaned back into the room, covering the mic with his hand. “Hey, Luke? When are we back in LA?”

“Uh. Eight hour layover on the--twelfth? A week from Thursday.”

Ashton relayed the information to Bryana.

She sighed. “You might want to cancel that connection.”

“Seriously, what’s going on?”

“I really can’t tell you over the phone. You’ve got to go on stage soon, don’t you? I’ll pick you up at LAX. And--just you, Ash, please. Not the boys. It’s really important.”

“I--I’ll see what I can do,” Ashton said, and hung up before he could do anything stupid, like book an immediate flight out.

“Post-breakup booty call?” Michael asked bluntly, once Ashton returned to the dressing room.

“It sounded like something was seriously wrong,” Ashton admitted, and shook his head. “I have no idea what’s going on with her, but it sounded bad.”

Luke sucked in a breath through his teeth but didn’t say anything.

Ashton shook his head. “I guess I’ll find out later. Right. We’ve got a show to put on. Four more this tour, yeah?”

And so it went. Ashton drove himself through the long days by focusing on the shows and the interviews. His drive didn’t go unnoticed by the fans, who started speculating on why. Thankfully no interviewer had asked which of them was single--Ashton was pretty certain he couldn’t lie.

Their final four shows went as well as Ashton could have hoped. Their final show was phenomenal, and Ashton found himself all too ready for a break.

They had a day in their last tour city--Ashton couldn’t even think which city they were even in at this point--to pack up and gather themselves before heading back to Australia for a month. Luke was going to haul some of Ashton’s crap back home while Ashton did his LA stopover. While he was helping out by taking some of Ashton’s stuff, Luke was making it very clear that he didn’t approve.

“I don’t think you should go,” Luke said flatly. Even though he had his own room, he was hanging out in Ashton’s. “Come on, Ash. You’re just going to end up broken-hearted again. Don’t go.”

“At the very least I need to get my shit out of her flat,” Ashton pointed out. “And to return the ring. She’s the one who dumped me, remember?”

“That’s what I’m worried about,” Luke grumbled.

“Luke. I’m going. At the very least I need to return the ring. And I should hear her out, yeah?”

“If you’re sure.”

“I’m very sure. What’s the worst it could be?”


	3. iii. i guess i was running from something

** 2021 **

** iii. i guess i was running from something **

 

The Irwin house had been thoroughly cleaned, Luke noticed. Lynn and Bry had coordinating outfits. None of this reassured Calum even a little.

“They smell fear,” Calum hissed. Luke stifled a laugh; Calum looked ready to climb on top of any and all nearby furniture to get away from Ashton’s children. “And I am _very afraid_.”

“Well, no, not really,” Ashton said. “They can’t quite smell fear. And Bry seems to like you.”

Calum held very still as Bry wandered closer.

“Hullo,” Bry said, flopping on the floor next to Calum. He had a book in his hands, a thin thing with a brightly colored cover.

“Hi,” Calum managed, looking like he expected Bry to charge him any second, screaming bloody murder.

“I like your hat,” Bry informed Calum. “It’s a nice hat.”

Calum clutched it, unsure of if Bry would try to steal his snapback. “It’s _my_ hat.”

“Yup.” Bry was either completely oblivious to or completely unconcerned with Calum’s discomfort and continued to settle himself with his book. “Wanna read with me?”

“Read what?”

“Dr. Seuss. It’s the one with the dog.” Bry held up his book, showing Calum a dog in a car. “Lots of dogs.”

“I like dogs,” Calum offered, and carefully folded himself to sit cross legged next to Bry. Bry, in a move Ashton suspected was to keep Calum from running away, climbed into Calum’s lap with his book.

“You can see the pages better this way,” Bry said. Calum relaxed only a little and dutifully listened to Bry stumble through the words on the first page.

“Fear, he’s smelling fear,” Calum hissed at Ashton.

“Bry likes you, you’ll be fine.” Ashton shrugged. Luke stifled a laugh and went to stand next to Ashton, for emotional support. “Besides, it’s Lynn who’s the terror. Bry’s an old man in a tiny child body. Michael, did you bring them presents?” Ashton asked, seeing Michael pull two packages out of his backpack. “Michael!”

“We’ve got four years of spoiling to catch up on,” Michael told Ashton. He handed a package wrapped in pink to Lynn. Bry looked up in curiosity; Michael handed him a blue-wrapped package. “So we’re going to spoil the shit out of them before you decide to vanish again.”

“I’m not going to--did you get Lynn a doll? Seriously?”

“It’s a Rockstar Barbie,” Michael said primly. “We’ve gotta get her dreaming young. I didn't figure she was old enough for a proper guitar.”

“It’s a bit big for her but she loves her ukelele. Hey, Lynn? Wanna show Uncle Michael your ukulele?”

Lynn’s face lit up and she dropped the doll into Bry’s lap. Bry put aside his package--it had contained a soccer ball--and started trying to free Barbie from her packaging. Lynn had already torn off in the direction of her bedroom, Michael in tow.

“What just happened?” Luke asked, looking amused.

“Bry likes dolls more than Lynn, but they both play kiddie soccer. Bry’s pretty attached to his ball, but Lynn usually makes Bry play dolls and he gets less bored than she does. Your gifts will be used. Just, next time, check with me what you’re giving them? Lynn’s got a rockstar Barbie somewhere, I think.”

“No, Samantha ate it,” Bry said absently. “Uncle Cally? She’s stuck.”

“There you have it. Samantha ate it.” Ashton shrugged. Then he fished a Swiss Army knife out of his pocket and used it to free Rockstar Barbie.

“Who’s Samantha?”

“The Great Dane who lives next door,” Ashton said, just as Bry chimed in with “Doggy!”

Ashton nodded solemnly. “Yes, Bry. Doggy.”

“You don’t have one of those around here too, do you?” Michael asked, coming back in without Lynn.

“Oh, god no.” Ashton looked horrified, though that might have been because Bry was insisting on holding Calum’s hand and Calum looked terrified. “No, I told the twins we’d consider it when they turned ten. Until then, I’ve got my hands full with these two, much less another entirely dependent being."

“So what kind of dog are you planning on getting?” Luke asked, knowing full well Ashton had wanted a dog almost as much as Calum did.

“Either a lab or a retriever, something sturdy. Not that we’re getting a dog,” he said quickly, eyeing Bry.

“I want a kitty,” Bry declared, and turned the page in his book with the hand not holding Calum’s. Lynn returned, triumphant with her ukulele, and they were subjected to a tiny concert.

Calum, as it turned out,  _loved_ Bry. It took an hour, but Bry was gleefully receiving piggyback ridges and wearing Calum’s snapback. Lynn was charming Michael into styling her hair, despite several warnings from her father that there was no way in hell she was dying her hair before she was thirty. Michael braided unbraided and rebraided first Lynn's hair then a tiny patch of Bry’s (“where you learn that?” “oh, you know, around.”)

After three consecutive readings of Bry’s favorite Shel Silverstein poem, Ashton got the twins settled in with a Disney movie-- _Wreck it Ralph_ for approximately the eight millionth time--and moved their group into dining room. There, they could still keep an eye on the twins.

“Calum,” Michael said calmly. “You might want to grab your wallet and keys.”

“What for?”

“I’m about to pick a fight with our dear former drummer here, and I don’t think he wants his kids to be privy to this. If we get loud enough for them to ask questions, take ‘em out for ice cream or something.”

“Makes sense,” Calum said, and fucked right off.

“Did you guys plan this?” Ashton asked. Luke hovered in the doorway, eyes flitting nervously between Michael and Ashton. “Also: isn’t Calum scared of my children?”

“Well, yeah. But Luke’s better at keeping me from punching people.” Michael took a deep breath, folded his arms across his chest and went “so what the actual _fuck_ , Ashton?!”

“I had kids?”

“I can see that. Why the hell didn’t you just tell us that when it happened, asshat?”

Ashton sighed and rubbed his forehead. “Do we have to do this now? Do you really _want_ to do this now?”

“Fuck yeah we’re doing this now.”

Ashton sunk deeper into his seat. “I meant to. I wanted to.”

“So why didn’t you?

“Bryana asked me not to, at first. Then I was going to tell you at our first meeting that happened after break, but the night before Bryana...well, Bryana left and I suddenly had two babies that needed me. Then I wanted to tell you after I got balanced out, but then the pap incident happened. Then I was going to tell you once the heat died down, but you’d already brought in an interim drummer.” Ashton chuckled dryly, but the humor didn’t reach his eyes. “Life’s what happens when you’re busy making plans.”

“Do you know how hard it was for us to be a band without you?”

Ashton surged out of his seat. “Hard for you? Hard for _you_? Fuck _off_ , Michael!”

“Me? You’re the one who _did_ fuck off.”

Luke was frozen. Michael was crying, angry, fat tears. Ashton was steadily getting redder.

“And you think it wasn’t the hardest thing I’ve done? Actually, wait, _fuck that._ It was the second hardest thing I’ve ever done, leaving you three behind, but the hardest was raising two kids on my own, without help from friends or family!”

“And you could have _had_ that help, if you’d just told us,” Michael said hotly, dashing away the tears from his cheeks. Distantly, Luke heard the front door close behind Calum and the twins.

“Do you want to hear about the nights I didn’t get sleep?” Ashton said, as if he hadn’t heard Michael speak. “Or when I had two sick babies and I was sick myself, and I couldn’t just hand them off to someone else? How about when I gave up everything I loved to keep them alive? You want to hear about how the nights where the only reason I didn’t kill myself was because I couldn’t get a good enough sitter for long enough for Bryana or my mum to come get the twins? How about how I gave up everything, my dreams and my best friends and my whole fucking career over this?”

Ashton slammed his hands down on the table.

“So it was hard for you? I guaran- _fucking_ -tee it was harder for me.”

It only took a second for Michael to pick up and scream back at Ashton, never one to back down. As much as Luke wanted to intervene, he thought this was good for them. Either they’d get all the worst out now, or it’d simmer and come back later.

It was a vicious, painful, and angry fight. Michael was an angry crier, which usually won him interband arguments since no one liked to see him cry. Ashton, though, was picking on Michael’s tendency to cry, which just made Michael fight back harder, hating that he cried when upset. Both men spat barbs at each other that should have cut deeper, _would_ have cut deeper if they weren’t both so angry already.

They argument ended with Michael and Ashton crying on each other, for a lot of reasons bigger than either of them wanted to verbalize. Luke felt like crying too, but then again he’d always been more willing to forgive and forget than either Michael or Ashton. Instead, he let them cry, knowing the wound between them wasn’t healed, not even close, but at least the poison had been washed out and the healing could begin.

Luke left them there, after pressing a kiss to Ashton’s curls and rubbing his hand over Michael’s back. He stepped into the kitchen to track down tea for all three of them.

He might not have talked to Ashton for five years, but Ashton still organized the kitchen the same way his mother had. Luke found the mugs above the microwave, and found a familiar blue box of Bushell’s in the cabinet next to the fridge.

Ashton didn’t have a kettle, or at least one that Luke could find, so he set a pot of water to boil. By the time the water had reached a rolling boil, Michael and Ashton had joined him in the kitchen.

“Someone should text Calum the all-clear,” Michael said. His voice was scratchy and his eyes red-rimmed.

“Already done,” Luke said. “Milk and sugar for everyone?”

“No,” Ashton said, but Luke had already known that.

He hummed and ducked around Ashton to retrieve milk from the fridge. “Not almond milk?”

“Kids need calcium.”

Luke left his hand at the small of Ashton’s back while he poured milk into his and Michael’s mugs.

“So do you have friends you replaced us with?” Michael asked, with no heat to it.

“Michael,” Luke warned.

Ashton chuffed. “No, it’s fine. Not really. One, that assumes you were replaceable. Two, no, not many friends at all. My friends are the parents of my kids’ friends. And Feldy, I guess. But it’s really hard to go out with anyone when you’ve got two eight PM bedtimes, and sitters are always a nightmare. Any of my friends are friends of convenience, really. So the past five years have been...lonely, to say the least.”

Ashton’s answer hung in the air. Luke poured hot water into the mugs and dumped in teabags. Michael always steeped his until it was bitter, but Ashton was always precise. They stayed in the kitchen until the front door opened again.

“Is it safe?” Calum called. “Cos I’ve got two very energetic toddlers that I can’t handle on my own.”

“Technically they’re not toddlers anymore, they’re almost five,” Ashton called, and went to do damage control.

“So that was quite the argument,” Luke said, looking at Michael. He hoped his expression was more unimpressed than stunned.

“Been building for a bit. How are _you_ not angry?”

Luke shrugged. “I mean--I’m pissed, but I get it, a bit.”

“How can you _get it_ at all?”

“Didn’t you hear him? He wanted to tell us. Everything just went to hell in a handbasket, and by the time he was in a place to tell us, he was scared we’d react like you are right now.”

At that, Michael managed to look at least a little sheepish. “Okay. Fair point. But he could have told us without us having to seek him out.”

“You’re not wrong there.” Luke sighed, hearing the twins’ voices from the living room. He guessed that Ashton was probably trying to convince them to settle down for at least a little bit. “Remember when he was papped, right before we came in and wrote our third album?”

Michael hummed. “When we decided that we weren’t going to look for him? Yeah. You were pissed.”

“I did the math. Bryana would have just left him, leaving him with four month old babies to take care of on his own.”

A quiet filled the room as Michael considered what that meant. “So he wasn’t glaring at the camera because his location had been revealed, he was glaring because--”

“He was overwhelmed and getting papped picking up baby supplies, which he needed but didn’t want anyone to know about,” Luke said. “He fell completely off the map after that--to protect the twins, I guess.”

“It makes sense,” Michael said reluctantly. “Should we go rescue Ashton and Calum from the twin terrors, then?”

“No need; they passed out on the couch,” Ashton said, coming back into the room with Calum on his heels. “But they’ll be nightmares this evening, so thank you for that, Michael.”

“Blame Calum, he’s the one who sugared them up.”

“But you’re the one who told him to.”

Ashton took his seat and glared.

“So, Ashton,” Calum said, tipping back in his chair. “I vote you're in on at least a temporary basis.”

“Which makes it two to one, suck it Michael!” Luke crowed.

Michael glared. “I vote for a probationary trial too, so three-zero, asshole.”

“Little pitchers,” Ashton warned, but was grinning. He had his arm thrown over the back of Luke’s chair, his fingers brushing at the nape of Luke’s neck.

“So have you been writing, or are we starting from scratch?”

“Hang on,” Ashton hummed and went into the spare room. When he returned, he had an armful of binders. “I never stopped writing,” he said, and dumped the binders on the table before glancing into the living room to check that the twins were still knocked out. Luke reached out and picked up a binder, Calum and Michael following suit. “I dunno if any of them fit the next album you were planning on, but they exist.”

Calum whistled. “Organized, aren’t you?”

“Didn’t want to lose anything,” Ashton said wryly. “I sold a fair few--anything in a yellow binder is sold, but the white binders are fair game. A lot of them were about getting kids to eat their vegetables and go to bed on time,” he added with an eye roll, tapping a yellow binder no one had touched. “Sold a lot to kids’ shows. Capitol worked with me so I could shift them to an appropriate label. Under a pseudonym, of course. A. Fletcher.”

Michael looked a little impressed. “The rest of them registered?”

“I’m a dad, not an idiot. Of _course_ they’re registered.”

Michael flipped open his white binder, labelled 2017. Calum rifled through a yellow binder labelled 2019.

These were fully visualized songs, guitar tabs and lyric sheets, bass parts neatly annotated and a drum track transcribed out. There were a few CDs tucked into binder sheets, presumably with demos. Each song was separated by a tabbed divider.

“This is angry,” Michael said, skimming through the lyrics. “Fast. It’s good.”

Ashton looked at the title and skimmed through the song. “I wrote that after Bryana left me the second time,” he admitted.

“Hey, I recognize this,” Calum said, and stopped short. “Ah. A. Fletcher, of course.”

“What?”

“Feldy presented some of your songs to us for our fourth album,” Calum said, and flipped to the back of the section where he found a copy of a contract. “We bought this one, see?” He tapped the page. “We recorded a demo, thought about putting it out on an album but we decided not to in the end.”

Ashton looked stunned, then angry. “I’m going to kill Feldy.”

“What? Why?”

“He said he’d see if anyone wanted any of my songs, but he said he wouldn’t show them to you three. Thought you’d recognize my style, or something like that.”

Calum grimaced. “We liked the song but didn’t know it was you, if that helps?”

“How did you not know we bought it?” Luke asked, curious enough to snag the binder from Calum and take a look for himself.

“Uh, that would have been around the time Bry and Lynn hit the terrible twos. They didn’t let me sleep for a week more than once. Man was not meant to parent twins on his own.” Ashton shrugged. “I kind of signed off on everything then if my lawyer told me it was a good idea. I wasn’t exactly running on all cylinders.”

Luke paused, then looked at Ashton suspiciously. “Has Feldy been trying to set you up on blind dates for the past, like, four years?”

Ashton blinked, stunned at the change of topic. “Uh--yeah. Says there’s a guy he works with I’d like, but I’ve kind of not been dating because of the twins, and I figured it wasn’t a great time to explore my bisexuality if it didn’t work out. Why?”

“Feldy has been trying to set me up with his goddaughter’s father,” Luke said, and waited for everyone else to figure it out.

Ashton snorted when he realized. “So Feldy’s been trying to get the band back together for as long as I’ve been out of it then, huh?”

“Sounds like.”

“Why don’t we order some food, and we can talk out what we want to do from here on out?” Calum suggested. He rubbed his face. “I sense a very long conversation coming up.”

“Oh, I’m, uh. I’m vegetarian now,” Ashton said sheepishly, before anyone could suggest any kind of food. “Or, well. Pescetarian. Lynn and Bry both eat meat though. I want them to get all the nutrients they need and that’s the easiest way.”

“We can work with that,” Michael said. “Chinese food okay?”

“Uh. Probably?” Ashton went into the kitchen, his former bandmates following him. He produced a small pile of takeout menus. “The stuff we usually get, me and the twins, is highlighted in all of them.”

Michael plucked the paper menus from Ashton’s hands. “I’ll call an order in.”

Luke squawked. “Um, no, you won’t, you’ll get the _worst_ things on the menu--”

Once they reassembled in the dining room, a calmer silence fell.

“So right now I’m on a contract basis,” Ashton said, kicking back in his chair. They’d have thirty minutes before their food was delivered, and the twins had fallen asleep in the living room. “You’ve got me for songwriting and production assistance at the moment.”

“I think,” Calum said slowly. “I think if we retool some of these songs--buy them, I guess, and then break them down?--and play on the back-to-our-roots angle, we could pull off an interesting album. Maybe an interesting concept album? But if we run with the angry post-breakup theme…”

“Some justified rebellion? A She’s Kinda Hot throwback vibe?” Luke asked, already scribbling on a piece of paper. “Sounds Good Feels Good brought forward five years and targeted at the fans who were teens then and are young adults now. A ‘welcome to adulthood’ vibe.”

“Big guitar, heavy on the drums,” Michael threw in. “Make it loud. Angry. Fun to play to crowds. Get Alex in to co-write?”

They all looked to Ashton.

“You in?” Luke asked finally.

“I’m in for whatever you want me in for,” Ashton said, grinning. “So hell fucking yeah, I’m in.”

The logistics conversation after that was surprisingly easy. But then again, Ashton thought, nothing had ever been easier for him than the band.

\--

Their PR person nearly had a conniption when they explained to her what was going on.

“So he left the band five years ago because he had a baby--”

“Two babies,” Ashton interjected.

“--and he told no one, and now he’s rejoining the band and you’re touring with two toddlers despite your sex, drugs, and rock n roll appeal--”

“They’re four, not exactly toddlers--” Ashton cut in at the same time that Luke chirped “pretty much!”

“I need a vat of coffee, industrial strength migraine medication, and a cute photo shoot of Ashton and his kids.”

Ashton frowned. “I don’t want them in the public eye.”

“And I don’t want my clients to make my life harder, but here we are.” Margaret shook her head. “That’s what I’m doing, Irwin. Look, I know you’ve been out of the game for a while now, but I’m sure you remember about flow of information and feeding the press.”

“Give them a little and they won’t ask for a lot,” Ashton said, but he looked unhappy about it. “They’re kids. They haven’t done anything. I want them as protected as possible.”

“And they will be. You know Feldmann’s kids?”

“Considering that Feldy’s their godfather, yeah.”

Margaret blinked. “Right. That’ll be a thing to bring up. You know how Feldmann doesn’t hide his kids but he doesn’t advertise them either?”

Ashton nodded. Luke tried to be reassuring without saying anything.

“We’ll do something similar. Go after anyone who says anything hurtful about them, try to keep them out of the press, but give only good tidbits for when the press gets too rabid.” She sighed. “Look. We’ll release a feel-good article about legendary drummer Ashton Irwin returning from a hiatus and raising beautiful, well-adjusted children in a supportive environment. Now that they’re older, you’re ready to return to the pressures of being a musician in an influential band. Look, Irwin, you’re a single dad who refused to abandon your children. You’ll already get points for that. Holly will get slaughtered in the press a bit, but that’s casualties. We get a feel good photo shoot of adorable children, and hopefully people will accept that at face value and not pry any further.”

Ashton nodded, still looking unhappy.

The rest of the PR meeting was about easing Ashton back into the public eye and gently reactivating his social media. Leaving the meeting, Luke got the impression that Ashton’s return would be obsessively engineered as a military coup.

 --

The whole band tagged along to Ashton’s photo shoot with Lynn and Bry. Bry was fascinated by the myriad of new, colorful clothing. Lynn was more interested in the toys laid out. In addition to the toys, there was a drum kit and a Cajon.

After collecting a tutu probably intended for Lynn, Bry settled himself on the too tall drum stool and started tapping out a simple but creative rhythm.

“Geez, you’ve got a tiny clone there, Ashton,” Luke teased. He set down an acoustic guitar case. Lynn darted across the room and clung to Luke’s legs.

“Wanna see my ukulele?” she asked Luke, stumbling a little over the word ukulele.

You’ve already shown me!” Behind them, there was a clatter as Bry tried to reach the adult sized drums and managed to fall off the stool. “Why don’t you sit with your daddy and your brother and show Uncles Cal and Mikey?”

Lynn’s face lit up. “Okay!”

Luke followed her, setting the guitar case beside Ashton before backing up and going back to stand with Calum and Michael.

Lynn curled into a cross-legged position and accepted her instrument from Ashton, who in turn carefully unpacked Luke’s precious acoustic.

The photographer loved it and kept a candid theme--easier than strictly posed photos when working with children, he explained. This was reinforced when they tried to do a series of posed photos: after fifteen minutes of awkward posing, both Ashton and the photographer looked frustrated and the twins ready to cry.

“Let me try something,” Luke called, and went to stand behind the photographer. When he started making over-exaggerated funny faces, Bry started laughing. Lynn wasn’t far behind.

“Lop!” Bry cried, and gestured for him to come over. When Luke didn’t show signs of moving fast enough, he went and grabbed onto Luke’s jeans to drag him onto the shoot’s set.

“No, Lynn, wait, I can’t--”

“Why not make it a whole band shoot?” the photographer suggested, looking relieved at the breakthrough in the children’s moods. “Show band support?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Calum said, but he was darting glances at the children’s toys and tutus. Luke knew that it’d probably only take five minutes for Calum to ‘reluctantly’ let one of the twins coax him into playacting a costume. “Beside, we’re haven’t done wardrobe or makeup.”

“Then just sit to the side. Make the kids more comfortable.”

After a short band conversation--excluding Luke, who was pinned down by the twins--Calum and Michael agreed to at least sit on the set with the twins.

Luke managed to get copies of some of the photos, which he immediately set as his phone background.

One photo he took candidly, of Michael and Calum talking to Ashton with Ashton’s face obscured, he put up on the band’s various social medias.

“First teaser,” he said, when asked about it, and put his favorite photo of Ashton with the twins on his private instagram.

\--

Ashton had missed jamming with the band. They’d rarely written like this, once they’d known what they wanted to write that day--which had been often--but it had always been a good warm-up.

Today, he was the first one in their writing/rehearsal space, and spent forty minutes setting up his kit and unpacking his battered acoustic guitar. It took him a lot longer than he’d expected to get the studio’s drum kit the way he wanted it, so by the time Michael and Calum arrived together, he had a tricky beat ticking through his head and was getting ready to test it out.

He set up his phone to record while Calum and Michael checked their tunings, and tried it out. Calum gave him a Look, and Ashton stopped.

“Yeah?” he asked, blinking.

“Why’d you stop?” Calum demanded, and with a grin, Ashton started up again.

It only took a few seconds for Calum to throw in a bassline. Calum had always been in tune with Ashton when it came to writing music, and it was nice to see that it was still true.

By the time Luke wandered in, bleary and clutching a cardboard coffee cup like a lifeline, Michael was replaying the drum and bass recording on a loop and trying out melodies while Calum belted out nonsense placeholder lyrics.

“You started without me!” Luke whined, and hurried to get set up. Ashton clambered out from behind the kit and fetched his acoustic out of its stand.

There was a lot they had to get out at their early rehearsals. Ashton had fallen behind in practice while the rest of the band had honed their skills by leaps and bounds. A couple of times Michael and Ashton got into loud, aggressive fights. Each fight was progressively more vicious than the last, until Michael punched Ashton again and stormed off.

Exhausted, Ashton sat on the floor and rubbed at his eyes, before breaking into humiliating tears. This was so much harder than he’d expected it to be, and he wondered if any of this was worth it. They were almost a month into their reunion and things hadn't eased, not nearly enough.

“He loved you a lot,” Luke said as he sat next to Ashton, always so willing to mediate. Ashton assumed Calum had gone after Michael. “He still does.”

“That punch he gave me definitely doesn’t feel like it,” Ashton choked out.

Luke rubbed Ashton’s shoulder, trying to soothe his hiccupping cries. “You were his brother and you vanished without a trace. You came back with _kids_ and you’re acting like not a lot has changed, Ashton.” Luke hummed and kissed the top of Ashton’s head. “He would have wanted to be there. We all would have.”

“Still,” Ashton choked out. He leaned his head onto Luke’s shoulder. “I’m surprised you’re taking this so well.”

“Oh, I’m still pissed at you. I’m just more glad that you’re back than I am angry that you left.” Luke shrugged, jostling Ashton in the process. “We want you here, but your head’s gone more often than not.”

“I worry,” Ashton said, scrubbing at his eyes once more. “I’m just--what if this was the wrong choice, for all of us?”

“Then we’ve fucked up enormously and nothing will fix it,” Luke said gravely. “But for what it’s worth, I’m pretty sure we haven’t.”

“How do you _know_ that?”

“I don’t,” Luke said. He pushed back a little from Ashton and then managed to get himself to his feet. “You remember the closing track on _Sounds Good/Feels Good_?”

“Ah, shit.” Ashton closed his eyes. They felt swollen and sore, so he rubbed at them again. “That’d’ve been  _Outer Space/Carry On_ , right?”

Luke looked inordinately pleased. “Yeah, exactly.” He pulled Ashton to his feet. “I was thinking of _C_ _arry On_ , really.”

Ashton smiled. Luke hummed a few bars, and Ashton was flooded with memories.

In their echoing practice space, Luke sang the opening. They’d never been able to perform _Outer Space/Carry On_ to Ashton’s satisfaction, never able to capture the scope of it. Ashton had written the original concept of it, and he’d loved it probably the most of anything he’d ever written. He couldn’t believe he’d forgotten it.

Across their rehearsal space, Ashton heard Michael pick up counterpoint to Luke. They were all a little rusty on this song, but Luke and Michael covered each other’s errors, and it sounded wonderful with the acoustics of the room. The few techs still in the room stopped to listen as Calum added his voice.

They hit Ashton’s favorite line, ‘so sick of the tug of war, that keeps pulling me under’, and he added his voice. Their improvised performance hit peak harmony, and Ashton found himself struggling to keep himself from bursting out in laughter.

“We’re such goddamn cheeseballs,” Michael groaned when the last note had faded away, and now Ashton couldn’t help but laugh. Michael shot him a conspiratorial look, rolling his eyes a little. “Did we just make up through the power of music? Our _own_ music?”

“We’re recording that and putting it as a bonus track,” Luke declared. “Or--maybe just on instagram.”

“You can’t redo an impromptu thing,” Ashton protested, still giggling. “I guess we can try.”

That broke the tension. While they never directly addressed it, Michael and Ashton’s fight faded to the back of their minds, and they went back to practising. Or they tried to--Ashton kept getting distracted by his phone, nervously checking to make sure nothing had gone wrong with the twins.

“Never thought I’d say this,” Calum said, after one too many breaks, wiping his forehead with the hem of his t-shirt sleeve. “But you’re too all-in, Ashton.”

“What?”

“That’s your whole problem.” Calum let the hem of his shirt drop and looked between his bandmates. “I’m not alone in thinking that, right?”

“Gonna have to expand on that, Hood.” Michael looked distinctly unimpressed, but he was always willing to listen to Calum.

“Well--when we started the band, Ashton was super all-in. He’s the whole reason we went from being three guys who dicked around in Michael’s granny flat to being an actual, motivated band.”

“Okay?” Ashton said, checking his spare drumsticks. He’d need to get another box, considering he’d broken three today already.

“Then, when he had his kids, he dropped everything else to take care of them.”

“That’s not--”

“I’m not done,” Calum said, and actually shushed Ashton. Luke giggled at the slightly stunned look on Ashton’s face. “You wanted to the best drummer you could be, when being a drummer was all you had to be. And then, when the twins were born, you wanted to be the best father possible, and that’s not--it’s not a bad thing. Good thing to aspire to, or whatever. But now, when you’re trying to balance being both a drummer _and_ a dad--”

“You can’t be all-in on both things,” Michael finished. “Not without fucking _everything_ up.”

Ashton still looked stunned, but nodded in understanding. He didn’t look happy about the revelation, either.

“So you’ve got to accept you won’t be there all the time for the twins,” Calum continued. “And you can’t be here all the time either. You’ve got to figure out how to--prioritize. Split things up. Maybe you have to let your babysitter put your kids to bed, but in exchange you can write a couple of songs. It’s just--your best trait has always been your stickiness.”

“Stickiness?”

“Your--once you start something, you finish it. Y’know?” Calum shrugged loosely, and wiped at his face with his shirt again. “And now you’ve got to figure out how to be not sticky. Delegate, or whatever. We can write without you, and you can spend more time with your kids without fucking up everything with us. Your kids can manage a babysitter for a while, and you can spend more time with us without fucking _them_ over.”

“I really don’t need help,” Ashton started. He didn’t get to finish.

“Look, I’ll come with you,” Luke said, packing up his guitar. “Cal and Mike can hold down our rental house, but you need help and we can work together while the kids are doing their whatever.”

“You really don’t--”

“I’ve got a lot of bones to pick with you,” Luke said. “But you can’t go alone.”

“Luke, you really don’t have to do that. I mean, you could, but I can’t let you--”

“Ashton. You’re frazzled and need someone else to help you for a bit. Just until we can get some kind of long-term help for you. Maybe your sister could fly out, or something.”

Ashton, looking profoundly annoyed about it, agreed.

Rehearsal having been called early, Luke rode with Ashton in his ridiculously childproofed SUV. They stopped at the band’s house just long enough for Luke to collect a bag--toiletries and clean clothes, mainly--before heading to the Irwin house.

The house was empty. Bry and Lynn had a playdate at a friend’s house, leaving everything quiet. Ashton showed Luke to the guest room, gave him a rundown of the house, and stomped off to find the clean spare sheets. After he dumped them off and left Luke to make the bed, Luke could hear Ashton slamming around in the kitchen downstairs.

If Ashton’s tempers were the same as they had been, they’d only get worse if Ashton was left to stew. Luke didn’t want Ashton to be mad, so he went and tried to placate Ashton.

In the kitchen, Ashton was violently mangling vegetables with a very large, sharp knife. The size of the knife was probably overkill, Luke thought. There was no actual way Ashton needed a butcher’s knife to chop aubergine and green beans.

“What are you making?”

“Curry,” Ashton said shortly. “Lynn loves eggplant.”

Luke nodded, even though Ashton couldn’t see him. “Can I help?”

“If you must.”

“Ashton, I know you don’t want me here--”

Ashton slammed the knife down. “Damn right. And I don’t want you placating me either.” Ashton turned to face Luke. “I’ve spent five years knowing exactly where my limits are, and I don’t need you or Calum pretending you know where they are. I have not hit my limits yet, except for how fucking annoyed I am with you three.”

“Ashton--”

“No, you need to let me be mad about this. And now, I need to get rice out of the pantry.”

Luke side stepped out of the way and retreated to the living room.

When Lynn and Bry were dropped off, Luke entertained them while Ashton continued slamming around in the kitchen. Somehow, when Ashton told the twins during dinner that Luke would be staying for a bit, he didn’t let on that he was pissed.

The whole house called it an early night.

The next morning was quietly awkward between Luke and Ashton. The twins were overjoyed to have someone else to play with, and Luke was happy to indulge them. Ashton mostly left them to their own devices, so Luke played with blocks and watched children’s TV, and finally left the kids once they fell asleep in a tiny child pile of snores and overlong limbs.

Luke found Ashton in the back garden, weeding.

“The twins fell asleep in the middle of the Wiggles,” Luke said.

Ashton looked up. "Look, about last night...I was tired and annoyed and I've been doing this on my own for a while. I forget sometimes not everyone's out to get me, and I've got a hard time giving up any kind of control."

"I'd guessed." Luke crouched. “You garden?”

“The plot came with the house,” Ashton admitted, sitting up. “I’ve been using it to teach the twins about organics and plants and photosynthesis and insects. They usually just play in on the play structure, though.” Ashton waved at the plastic slide and swing set across the yard.

“Here, let me help--”

“You’ll get your jeans all dirty,” Ashton protested, but Luke was already kneeling in the soil and starting to tug at weeds. “Okay then.”

“Do you homeschool them?”

Ashton snorted, returning to carefully tending the tomato plants. Luke was picking at the weeds growing around Lynn’s favorite sunflowers.

“Considered it,” he said. “Then realized I wasn’t really qualified. There’s a good charter school I like a few blocks away. They’ve been on the waiting list since they were six months old.”

“What are you going to do once they start school?”

Ashton sighed, sitting up. His hat slid back to hang by its strings around his neck. He stripped off his gardening gloves. “Why do I feel like this conversation is about more than the twins and kindergarten?”

Luke gave him a look like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Because it is?”

“Right. Well, I was going to go back to work more, was the plan. I only work about twenty hours a week now. Once they started primary--elementary, here, whatever--I was going to go up to thirty, and increase from there. I wasn’t planning on the band, with ninety-plus hour work weeks nine months a year and nothing the other three. I wasn’t planning on making another band, if that was what you were asking. Not for a very, very long time.”

“Were you ever planning on telling us?”

Ashton stilled. “You’re still mad about that.”

“I’m going to be mad about that for a very, very long time,” Luke said bluntly. He tugged out a particularly stubborn weed. “I don’t blame Lynn or Bry. They’re wonderful. I don’t blame you for having kids. But I blame you for not telling us. I blame you for how you treated us.”

“I know, and I’m--”

“I’m not fucking finished, Ashton.” Luke finally looked up from the dirt. “We would have been pissed, Ashton, but we would have supported you. We want to have been there. You didn’t trust us or care enough about us to make sure we knew what was going on in your life--you just cut us out and for all we knew you were dead. Whenever any of us stopped by your mum’s house it was all she could do to slam the fucking door in our faces. So yeah, I’m still mad about that.”

Ashton swallowed, nodding.

“I know that sounded rehearsed, and that’s because it was. Been wanting to say that for a while. But now--what’s done is done.” Luke looked over to see Ashton scrubbing away tears. “Hey--don’t cry. I don’t want you to cry. Or, well, I do, a little, because you kind of deserve it. But I’m mad, Michael’s mad, Calum wants to be madder than he is--but we’re here, now. Bridges were burned and we’ve got to rebuild. We’re in the situation we’re in, and we’ll deal with it. You’re still our best friend and bandmate, even if you decided we weren’t worthy of being in your life all those years ago.”

“I never--I never thought you weren’t worthy,” Ashton said quietly. He had a streak of dirt across his cheek, slowly dripping with sweat and tears. “I thought _I_ wasn’t worth being in your life then.”

“Well, that’s fucking wrong, for starters, and you kind of deserve the punches Michael’s given you for that. But--I get it. So. Let’s not pretend you ignoring us didn’t happen, because it did, but let’s try not to be dicks about it.”

“I--I guess that can happen.”

They fell into an easy rhythm after Luke confronted Ashton in the garden.

Luke fit easily into the Irwin’s schedule. It made their day just that little bit easier to have another adult in the house. He’d help the twins pick out their clothes in the morning while Ashton got ready, and then switched places so he could get ready while Ashton made everyone breakfast. Then it was a morning of entertaining the twins and tricking them into believing that chores were fun, followed by dropping the kids off for classes at the local rec center--art first and then kids football after, to be picked up and fed dinner by a sitter that evening--before the two of them headed off to the studio to work with Calum and Michael.

It was oddly domestic and Luke found himself loving it. Ashton seemed to enjoy the balance too, when he wasn’t working himself half to death trying to accomplish everything on his own.

Evenings usually consisted of a child-friendly dinner and bubble baths before putting the kids to bed and Luke stretching out on Ashton’s bed to discuss the writing for that day and ideas for tomorrow.

“I think I started writing a song about rubber ducks while Bry was in the bath,” Luke complained. He’d stolen a pair of Ashton’s track bottoms--sweatpants, Ashton called them now, having thoroughly Americanized his vocabulary--and had his face half-buried in one of Ashton’s pillows. “I completely and totally blame you.”

Ashton poked his head out of the bathroom, a toothbrush dangling from the corner of his mouth. “Kids do that to you,” he mumbled through a mouthful of foamy toothpaste. He ducked back into the bathroom and Luke heard him spit. “Write it down and sell it to the Wiggles. They’re fellow Aussies.”

Luke rolled over and sat upright. “You’re kidding.”

“Why the _fuck_ would I joke about that? They’re definitely Aussie. They write all their own stuff, so they might not go for it, but maybe you could do a guest stint. Be the black Wiggle or something. No, wait, that came out wrong. You could put on one of those mascot suits they’ve got.”

“I’ll pass, I think.”

“Do you think it’s because I’ve seen too many episodes of Sesame Street? That I started composing kids’ songs?”

This time, when Ashton emerged from the bathroom he looked reproachful. “How many episodes did you and the kids watch?”

“I dunno. My brain turned to goo after the third one.”

“They’re only allowed to watch one a day! It’s gonna take me a month to get them to stop whining for more!”

Luke rolled his eyes. “It’s _Sesame Street_. It’s not like I introduced them to Game of Thrones.”

“In case you haven’t noticed, I’ve kind of turned into a hippie parent,” Ashton pointed out, and ducked back into the bathroom. Luke heard the tap water turn off and waited for Ashton to flop onto the bed next to him.

“Mm, your bed is amazingly comfortable,” Luke practically moaned, relaxing further into the bed. His spine made a terrible popping noise. Ashton made a face.

“I swore I'd get the nicest bed I could after four years of tour bunks.”

“You did good.” Luke rolled over to face Ashton. “You been sharing it with anyone?”

“What do you mean?”

“In the past five years.”

“Well, there was Bryana.” Ashton made a face. “I tried, a couple of times, but I always felt guilty pulling when the twins were home waiting for me. I always worried too much.”

“So you never got around to--exploring with guys?”

Ashton raised his eyebrows. “I never said that.”

“Wait, really?”

“Once, when the twins were about three. Never saw the guy again after he found out I had kids.”

Luke's expression darkened. “Well he’s an asshole.”

“Obviously. That was about when Feldy started trying to set me up and I decided dating should wait awhile.” Ashton stretched and relaxed into the pillows. “You?”

“I spent a while figuring out what I wanted to call myself,” Luke admitted.

“Yeah? Last I remember you were thinking--pansexual?”

“Well, that was a while ago.”

“What do you--call yourself now?”

“Well, I _identify_ as demisexual.”

Ashton stared blankly. “I am an idiot who doesn’t know what that means.”

Luke laughed, bright and clear. “Yeah, most people--most people don’t. It means I don’t feel sexual attraction without a deep emotional bond first. It’s on the ace spectrum.”

“So no boyfriends for you in the past few years?”

“Ah--no. But a girlfriend, for a bit. Not anymore.”

“What happened?”

“Heartbreak,” Luke said, and left it at that.

Their conversation continued into the night and Luke didn’t even remember falling asleep until he woke to a weight on his chest. He panicked for a second, then relaxed when he realized it was Bry. After a beat of calm, he freaked out again.

He hadn’t _meant_ to fall asleep in Ashton’s bed, except apparently he had and now Ashton was asleep and there was a four year old sitting on his chest. He had no idea what the twins thought was happening, but he was under no impression that this was good.

Bry was oblivious to Luke’s inner turmoil, contentedly munching on one of the granola bars Ashton kept at kid height.

“Morning, Lop,” Bry said, never having quite gotten the hang of Luke’s name and showing no signs of ever changing. Luke was only a little sulky about it, considering that Bry had mastered Michael and Calum’s names with ease. “Lynn’s watching Sesame Street.”

“Did your daddy say that’s okay?”

“No.” Bry shrugged, taking another bite of granola bar. “M’sposed to keep you sleepin’.”

“She’s not allowed to, Bry,” Ashton rumbled, voice still heavy with sleep. “Go tell your sister to play with Legos or your dolls. Sesame Street is off limits until this afternoon.”

“M’kay,” Bry said agreeably, and trotted off to find his sister.

“Morning,” Ashton grumbled, and rolled over, slinging his arm across Luke’s waist. “G’back to sleep, babe.”

“It’s Luke,” he tried to tell Ashton gently, but Ashton was already snoring again and Luke was pinned again, this time by Ashton instead of Bry. “Okay, I guess writing has really taken it out of you.”

Sighing, Luke closed his eyes and drifted off again. When he woke up for the second time, Ashton wasn’t in bed, but Luke could hear Ashton somewhere in the house. It sounded like he was having a lighthearted bickering argument with Lynn.

He rolled out of bed and ruffled a hand through his hair before going in search of the Irwins.


	4. iv. there was life, there was love

** 2016 **

** iv. there was life, there was love **

Ashton said goodbye to the boys at the airport and collected his bags. He took his two big suitcases--kind of a ridiculous amount of clothing considering he had no idea how long he’d be staying--but the rest of his stuff was being shipped back to Australia under the watchful eye of their tour manager.

Bryana picked him up in her silver Toyota. Fans didn’t know he wasn’t going to be there, so it was quick, quiet exit from the airport.

“What’s going on, Bryana?”

“Not yet,” she said. She was wearing a billowy dress--the style was called Bohemian, if he remembered right--and a big floppy hat with sunglasses. He wasn’t sure if it was stylish or not, but she looked gorgeous. He told her as much.

Bryana smiled wryly. “Thanks, Ash. Don’t always feel it these days.”

He gave her a one-armed hug. “Well, you’ll always be gorgeous to me.”

“Oh, to _you_ , Ashton, or do you mean to say I look hideous to everyone else?”

Ashton snorted. “You’ll be so ugly they’ll make you a troll doll in your honor and everyone will think it’s prettier than you any given day,” he teased, and rolled his eyes. “You look better than the rest of us mere mortals even when you’re on a bad day. You look amazing and everyone here knows it.”

“You are a flatterer.”

“Not flattery if it’s true.”

Bryana slid into the driver’s seat. “C’mon, Ashton.”

“I’m serious!”

Once they were settled into the car, Ashton turned to Bryana. “So what’s all this about?”

“Are you hungry? I’m hungry,” Bryana said, and wound them out of the jammed LAX parking lot. The tension was thick between them, their easy flattering banter completely gone.

“So how has work been?” Ashton tried.

Bryana relaxed fractionally. “It’s okay. There’s this boho line I’ve been working with--lots of florals for spring, this gorgeous dress I got to take home…”

Ashton listened attentively, asked all the right questions. He hadn’t known much about modeling before Bryana, hadn’t known how much it differed from a band photo shoot, but she’d taught him a lot. As a result, the 5sos photo shoots had been better and Ashton had been able to engage with her on the topic of her work. He loved knowing what she loved, loved knowing about what she was doing; it was what made their relationship work long-distance. That was, of course, until it didn’t.

After half an hour of driving and quiet, tentative conversation, Bryana pulled them off the road into a restaurant.

Ashton wasn’t much familiar with American restaurants still, so he followed her in and kept his head down as she got them a table.

Bryana sat at the booth and ordered coffee for the both of them--caffeinated for him, decaf for her. He looked at her in confusion; Bryana was the type to get red eyes with double the amount of extra espresso just to get started in the morning.

“I’ve been craving IHOP coffee for like the past month,” she said, rolling her eyes. “I dunno why. It’s awful coffee. But I’ve been eating here most meals recently.”

Ashton frowned. Bryana never liked overly sweet breakfast foods like pancakes, which was mostly what IHOP served. In fact, everything about the restaurant seemed to be in antithesis of everything he knew about her.

“Bryana, seriously. What’s going on?”

She sighed and reached for her purse. “So--I ended things between us because I wasn’t ready to be serious.”

“Pouring salt in the wound?”

She shot him an annoyed look. “No. Ashton--I don’t want to get back together,” she said, and pulled an envelope out of her purse, setting it in front of him. There was a minute of awkward quiet when the waitress came by to pour them their coffee and take their order. Ashton hadn’t looked at the menu, so he just ordered the same thing as Bryana.

“So what do you--”

“Open the envelope, Ash.”

“You’re not asking for--”

“Ashton Fletcher Irwin, open the goddamn envelope.”

He opened the unsealed flap and pulled out a handful of dark, blobby and entirely unmistakable pictures. “Are these--”

“I’m pregnant. With twins.”

Ashton’s jaw dropped and he gaped, stammering. No matter how hard he stared at the pictures they didn’t change. “I--it’s--they’re mine?”

Bryana nodded, stirring milk and plain sugar--not her usual aspartame--into her coffee. “If they’re not yours, I’m the next Virgin Mary. Or--well. Some kind of divine intervention happened. I’m seventeen weeks along, and the only person I was sleeping with then was you. I figure it was when we were drunk and forgot a condom, or a condom broke. We were too careful for it to be anything but--well. A stupid mistake.”

“Are you--are you going to keep them?”

She sighed. “That’s-that’s what I wanted to talk to you about. I’m--I’m morally against abortion. I mean, a woman should choose. And I’m choosing not to. The question is, do I keep them, do you keep them, do we put them up for adoption, do we try to co-parent...I don’t know. But you had a right to know.”

“What do you want from _me_?” Ashton asked, still staring at the photos. “And--can I keep these?”

“Those are your copies,” she said, and took a sip of her coffee. “And. I want you to be involved as much as you want to be. Financial support would be helpful, but I’ve got some money saved up from modeling gigs. I mean--I can’t work while I’m pregnant, not since I don’t want everyone to know I dumped my ex after he got me pregnant and now--I don’t know what we are or what we’ll be. I just--you were always so close to your little siblings, and...I figured you’d be a good parent.”

He nodded, mind whirring. “So what do we do?”

“That’s why I wanted you here. To figure it out.” She looked down at her plate. For the first time, Ashton realized how scared she looked. “Don’t tell anyone, Ash, please. I don’t--I’m not ready for anyone to know.”

“Can I tell the boys?”

“I--please don’t.” Bryana looked down at her plate. “Please--please don’t tell anyone. Not even the boys.”

Ashton nodded solemnly. “Okay. I won’t. I won’t tell them.”

\--

Ashton stayed in LA. He slept on Bryana’s couch until he found a suitable house, a three bedroom in a safe neighborhood with good schools. There, he set himself up in one bedroom and helped Bryana take on the other. They’d decided to co-parent, but not necessarily date. The third bedroom they turned into a nursery.

When they painted, Bryana picked out yellows and purples and a ridiculous number of things with little yellow ducks on them. Being there, preparing the nursery for their children, Ashton almost felt like he was in love again.

“What did you tell your band?” she asked, when he was assembling two white IKEA cribs.

“I didn’t,” he said, and left it at that.

\--

“I’m not marrying you,” Bryana said, when they were putting a ridiculous pile of onesies, diapers, and baby essentials away into the dresser of the nursery. “I’m not the marrying type.”

“I know,” he said, and pressed a kiss to the side of her head, his hand moving to rest on her belly, growing bigger each day. “I didn’t expect you to.”

He tried not to think of the diamond ring in his tour case, still waiting to be unpacked.

\--

“My mom wants to be here for the birth,” Bryana said. She was close now, could pop at any time and bring two babies into the world. “Will your mom come?”

Ashton shrugged. “I--haven’t really told her.”

“Well, why not?”

“You asked me not to tell anyone,” he said simply. “So I didn’t.”

“I didn’t mean for you to not tell your family!” Bryana said, horrified.

Ashton wondered how it was that they’d dated for a year and she hadn’t realized that the boys were as much his family as Mum, Lauren and Harry. He didn’t want to cause a fight though, so all he said was “I’ll ask her.”

He didn’t ask her.

\--

Ashton hung up the phone and sighed deeply. Bryana was napping, taking advantage of the twins being still to get some rest.

His lawyer thought they could get him a stay on his contract, let him have another few months until they could figure out a solution to his and Bryana’s non-relationship and decided how to raise the twins.

He still hadn’t told the band yet. He didn’t know _how_. He imagined that conversation: “Hey, so I know we had a band policy against dating, which I broke, so none of us would get anyone pregnant, which I did, and I’ve got twins to worry over instead of worrying over the band and our careers.”

If he didn’t quit the band, they’d probably kick him out. So really, he was doing everyone a favor by dropping out on his own. And he could explain to them later, once he figured this out for himself.

It’d work, he told himself. It had to.

\--

“I want to name him after you,” Bryana said. It was the only thing she’d said all day, curled into an armchair and staring off into space. Ashton had been carefully baby proofing the house. Considering that all of the furniture was new and neither of them had many knick knacks lying around, there wasn’t much to baby proof. It had been quiet and awkward all morning.

Ashton made a face. “I mean--it’s a nice thought, but I don’t like the idea of sharing a name?”

“Well, her then. We could call her Ashley.”

“That’s Halsey’s name.”

Bryana cocked her head. “Okay. Admittedly I’m not a fan of naming our baby after your ex. Ashlynn, maybe?”

“We could call her Lynn,” Ashton said, warming to the idea. “Yeah--I like that. Ashlynn.” He hummed. “We could name him after you?”

“How?”

“Bryan, maybe?”

She rubbed at her belly. “You hear that, babies? You’re Ashlynn Holly Irwin and Bryan Holly Irwin.”

“Not Ashlynn and Bryan Holly? You sure you want to tack Irwin on there?”

“Well, they’re both of ours, aren’t they?”

“Ashlynn Marie Holly Irwin,” Bryana said. “That’s your mom’s name, right? Ann-Marie?”

“I’m not sure how I feel about naming a baby after someone still alive,” Ashton admitted. “But I guess we’ve thrown that out the window with naming them after ourselves.”

“It’s not _directly_ ,” Bryana protested. “Ashlynn Harriet, then, after your brother. And Bryan Lawrence, after your sister.”

“You don’t want to name them after _your_ family?”

Bryana smiled wryly. “Trust me--they don’t need to be associated with my family.”

Ashton knelt and laid his cheek against her belly. She ran her fingers through his hair.

“They’ll be here soon,” he whispered.

She nodded and sighed deeply, jostling him a little. “They’re almost here.”

“I can’t wait to meet them.”

Bryana chucked, jostling Ashton a little. “It’s not like they’ll do much once they’re born.”

“No, but…they’re little humans. That we _made_.”

“Well, that’s true,” Bryana said, and it sounded a little wistful, a little regretful, and a lot tired. “We did make them.

\--

Ashton woke in the middle of the night to find Bryana doing dishes in the kitchen. She was scrubbing circles on one of their plates with a white-knuckled grip, staring at the plate so intensely he was surprised it didn’t catch on fire. He wrapped his arms around her from behind, stilling her hands.

“What’s going on, Bryana?” he asked, carefully prying the sponge out of her grasp.

“Think I’m having contractions,” she said, and turned in the circle of his arms. Her wet hands soaked his shirt, but he was too stunned by her words to notice. “I couldn’t sleep so I’m waiting to see if they get closer together.”

“Not Braxton-Hicks?”

“Those don’t happen much.” She buried her face in the battered cotton of his sleep shirt. “I think they’re coming, Ashton.”

He’d expected to be panicked, but somehow, he was mostly calm. “You could’ve woken me.”

“You were sleeping. Don’t think we’ll get much of that in the next few months.” She winced, hissing. “That one came sooner than I expected.”

“Guess it’s time to go to the hospital.” Ashton kissed the top of her head. “Your bag by the door?”

“And my mom on speed dial,” she confirmed. She rubbed at her belly, face screwing up in pain. “Fuck. I hate hospitals, but I refuse to have them here.” Bryana leaned against the counter. “They’re going to stab me with an epidural and you’re going to let them, Ashton Fletcher, and you’ll hold my hand because you’re fifty-percent responsible, here.”

He snorted. “Right. Let me put a towel down on the seat and we’ll go.”

“No rush. I think I’ve got a few more hours.” She winced again, and he hurried off.

It ended up taking another six hours before the nurse considered Bryana dilated enough to call the doctor in, and then another four hours for Bryana’s labor to really get going.

Ashton was terrified something was wrong, which tipped the nurses off that he was a first-time dad. The third time the nurse caught him on WebMD, Ashton got banished to go pick up goods for himself and the twins’ first onesies and blankets from the house. That killed an hour, but he was soon back at Bryana’s side, just as worried as before.

Then Bryana was screaming, the nurse brought in a big fuck-off needle to poke into Bryana’s spine (“That’s what they use to put in the epidural?!” “Fuck off, Ashton, it’s not even going into _you_.”), and Ashton lost all track of time, and before long, baby Ashlynn Harriet came into the world, wailing her tiny lungs out.

Ashton didn’t even have time to be horrified at the doctor giving Lynn a solid smack on the back before the kind nurse explained that the screaming meant that Lynn’s lungs were healthy and that she was adjusting normally to being in the world.

“Can I hold her?” Bryana asked. The nurse carefully transferred Lynn to Bryana’s arms.

Bryana held Lynn with shaking hands. “She’s so small.”

“You’ve got another one coming,” the nurse reminded them. Bryana winced.

“Oh, hell. Any chance of another epidural?”

Bryana refused to let them take Lynn out of her sight while working on pushing Bry out. “I worked hard to make that,” she informed the room at large. Ashton, hold her and let me hold your knee.”

Ashton did as ordered. His phone rang--the cheerful ringtone informed him that it was Luke calling. He barely had time to glance down towards his pocket before the doctor was demanding his attention.

“Your little girl’s twin has his umbilical cord wrapped around his neck,” she said, looking grim. “We think it’s Type A, but...this could get tricky.”

“Type A?” Ashton asked faintly. A kind nurse explained while the doctor returned her attention to Bryana and their babies.

After a heart-stopping twenty minutes, Bryan was born. He didn’t cry immediately like Lynn and was whisked away to the NICU before either of them could hold him.

Bryana looked shaken. Ashton leaned over to kiss her cheek. “Hey, he’ll be okay.”

Bryana turned her head to kiss him on the mouth. “Promise, Ashton?”

“Promise,” he breathed, and kissed her again. He helped her get a better hold on Lynn, and went to find a nurse who could tell him where to find Bry.

Twenty minutes later, the receptionist directed him to the NICU, two hallways over through an unfair complex maze of corridors.

For the next three hours, Ashton sat in the hall outside of the NICU, watching through the glass. A kind nurse had put Bry’s heated bassinet near the window so Ashton could see him, even if he couldn’t hold his son.

Bry was so much stiller than his sister, who squirmed and cried and hated when she wasn’t being held. While the nurses reassured Ashton that the only reason Bry was in the NICU was that he had a low birth weight and they wanted to be extra careful, Ashton still didn’t want to leave his son alone.

So while Bryana slept in her hospital room with Lynn in a bassinet next to her, Ashton sat in the corridor and kept watch over Bry. He lost track of time, and his phone eventually chimed itself to sleep, drained entirely of battery, so he couldn’t tell what time it was. The hallways were relatively empty, though, so he assumed it was the middle of the night.

“Hey, Bry,” he said, leaning to rest his forehead against the glass. “We’re here for you, wonderful baby of ours. I really hope you pull through. I _need_ you to pull through.”

Bry squirmed a little in his bassinet. Ashton took comfort in that. Lynn never stopped moving, but Bry--it had seemed like he’d never move when he was first born. Now, however long later, this seemed like it could be a positive sign.

“I gave up a lot for you and your sister,” he said, watching Bry’s tiny eyelashes flutter. “I’ll give up more, I’ll give up everything--I just--you’ve got to be okay. You’ve--you’ve go to.”

Over the next few days, Ashton kept watch over Bry. The nurses were constantly checking on him and constantly looking worried; the doctors tried to explain everything to Ashton but most of it went over his head. All he wanted to know was that Bry would be okay.

Lynn was cleared to go home after three days. Bryana’s mother took Lynn and Bryana to their house. Ashton had to be coaxed away from the Level III/NICU waiting room to eat and sleep. As soon as he’d met the bare minimum to satisfy Bryana’s mother, though, he was back at the hospital.

He was there so often that after a few days of this, when the nurses switched shifts, one of the new nurses took pity on him.

“If you go through sanitation and scrub up I’ll let you in to be a little closer. If he’s doing well you could maybe even hold him.”

Ashton could feel his whole face light up. “Seriously?” he said, and the nurse grinned.

“The NICU is kinda sensitive, but if you’re careful I can let you in,” he confirmed, and walked Ashton through the process of scrubbing in.

“How’s he doing?” Ashton asked, when he was settled in a rocking chair next to Bry’s incubator.

The nurse checked the chart. “He’ll live.”

“But--”

The nurse shook his head. “You’ll have to let the doc tell you. Peterson’s your neonatologist?”

“Yeah.”

“She’ll be in to check on Bryan here in a few hours. But--the chart says it should be okay for you to hold him if you’re scrubbed in.”

“So--how do I scrub in?”

The nurse walked him through the process and settled him in a rocking chair, before giving him Bryan to hold.

“I’ll be right over there,” he said, and left Ashton to get to know his son.

“Bryan Lawrence Holly Irwin,” he murmured, starting to rock gently. “Hello, darling boy, I haven’t met you yet.”

He settled Bry against his chest, vaguely remembering that familiar heartbeats were soothing to newborns. Ashton adjusted Bry’s little hat, stared in shock at the tiny fingers and delicate eyelashes.

“You’ve got to be okay,” Ashton murmured, and stared in wonder as Bry’s fists clenched and unclenched, as his down-fine hair tickled at Ashton’s neck. “I told you before, I gave up a lot for you and I’ll give up more. I’ll give up music if you’re just--if you’re just _okay_.”

When Bry’s hands clenched and held onto Ashton’s shirt, it seemed like a sign.

 


	5. v. even mountains crumble into the sea

** 2021 **

** v. even mountains crumble into the sea **

 

Lauren finally flew in and set up camp in Ashton’s spare bedroom to supervise her niece and nephew. She immediately hit it off with the rest of the band, which Luke supposed was only to be expected. She was, after all, Ashton’s sister.

By the time Lauren arrived, they’d already demo’d two songs--a stirring _where did I go wrong_ ballad headed by Michael, and an angry _fuck you I’m better off without you_ anthem Ashton had drafted before it had been completely deconstructed and rebuilt by the whole band.

Their makeshift setup with Luke and Ashton acting as co-parents had been working well enough, though Lauren took one look at his setup and completely demolished it.

“No more of this,” she said, rolling up her sleeves and starting in on a schedule where Ashton could work longer days and still spend a lot of time with his kids. While she did that, Ashton started making food. “Look, I can--Ashton, have you been feeding them vegan chicken nuggets again?”

“No, those are mine,” Ashton said absently, continuing to make a lunch that everyone would eat. Luke snorted, watching as Ashton pulled bag after bag of frozen food out of the freezer. “The dinosaur shaped ones are theirs, and they have actual chicken in them.”

“Why are the chips _orange_?”

“They’re sweet potato fries, and shush, they don’t know any other kind exists.”

“They’re not bad,” Luke chimed in. He pointed at Lauren’s carefully hand-drawn schedule. “No, their dance class starts at 11:45, you’ve got to feed them _before_ then.”

Lauren rolled her eyes and pushed Luke away.

“You two, get out of here. I’ll handle them.”

“I’m making everyone lunch!” Ashton protested.

“The chips are orange and the dinosaur chicken nuggets are organic,” Lauren said flatly. “Are you planning on feeding them non-dairy no-sugar pudding for dessert?”

Ashton’s guilty expression gave everything away.

“Out, both of you. I’ll feed the twins something kids should actually eat, and you two can go get lunch and then head to rehearsal. _Out_.”

Ashton put his hands up and backed out of the kitchen. Luke followed.

“Lunch with the boys?” Luke suggested.

They picked up Indian takeaway and barged into the band house, waking up Michael and Calum in the process.

“It’s so fucking early,” Michael moaned, slumping down onto the couch. “Gimme. Did you get poppadums?”

“They’re more into roti and naan here,” Ashton said. He leaned against Luke, his plate on his lap. “You’ll probably like roti?”

Michael’s reply was muffled by the enormous bite of food he stuffed into his mouth. Immediately after, he began trying to impersonate a fire-breathing dragon.

“Did I not warn you?” Ashton said innocently, scooping his own food up with a bite of naan. “It’s extra spicy.”

“Dick,” Michael managed, and bolted to the kitchen for milk.

Calum rolled his eyes. “So, what’re your guys’s opinions on the demo we did yesterday? I thought I’d like it better than I do.”

Luke groaned. “No shop talk. Not--not for an hour.”

“Seconded!” Michael called from the kitchen. He returned with a tub of yoghurt, the giant size you only seemed to find in America.

Luke was eating with his left hand, his right hand staying laid against Ashton’s thigh.

“So. Ashton. You’ve seen the new Johnny Depp movie?” Calum asked, spooning more tikka masala onto his plate.

Immediately Luke and Michael groaned.

“Don’t engage,” Luke stage-whispered. “He’s never going to shut up.”

Ashton grinned, reminded of their post-show dinners, the way Calum would harp on his newest favorite movie, how Luke and Michael would get fed up with it until they developed an obsession of their own.

“Yeah, I liked it,” Ashton said, and watched the bickering discussion break out.

\--

After another fight with Michael, Ashton left rehearsal early and left Luke stranded for the night. A quick text later and Luke decided to stay at the band house, in what was ostensibly his room, leaving the Irwins and Lauren to a family night.

The next morning, Ashton showed up way before everyone else. When Luke wandered in with Michael and Calum, Ashton was pounding the hell out of his drums and sweating already. Michael had a guilty look on his face as he went to talk to him.

Luke pulled Calum off to the side. They couldn’t hear what Michael and Ashton were saying, but it was quiet and serious, looks Luke was still unused to seeing on either of his bandmates.

“We should get everyone together and play, like, truth or dare or something. Truth or drink,” Calum suggested, looking at a tuning and making a face. “Band bonding that doesn’t involve music or kids.”

“You get to suggest that,” Luke said immediately. Michael and Ashton were still talking, and Luke had the feeling it could go on for quite a while.

Eventually, it got to the point where Michael and Ashton were yelling at each other again.

“I’m trying not to be angry,” Michael shouted. “But it’s fucking hard when you’re not, like, fucking mentally here or whatever!”

“I’m _trying_! But my life consists of a lot more than just the band and flirting with Calum!”

Michael’s expression shuttered. “You know that’s not how it is.”

“Might as well be. Don’t you have a marriage pact?”

“ _Okay_ ,” Calum said, stepping in. He quelled Michael with a look and held his palm out towards Ashton. “This is getting out of hand. You two need to start getting to fuck over this. So. We’re having a band dinner tonight, and getting everything aired out then with plenty of alcohol. Hold your arguments til then, please.”

“Only if my kids don’t need me,” Ashton said.

Luke could tell that even Calum was starting to get fed up with Ashton; while Michael remained the only one of their band to punch Ashton so far, Luke guessed Calum wasn’t far from punching both Ashton and Michael.

Calum gave Luke an annoyed look; Luke knew it meant that he’d be talking Lauren into watching the kids and coaxing Ashton out of the house later or else there’d be hell to pay.

Practice and demoing was prickly that day, which worked perfectly for the song they were recording. Feldy was over the moon at the way it was coming together, even if he seemed like he was actively ignoring the tension between the band members. In fact, Luke thought the prickly tension that was coming across in the recording was a little too perfect, since he had no idea how they were going to replicate it live without making Ashton and Michael fight on a regular basis.

Luke drove them home that evening, knowing that Ashton would engage in some serious road rage if allowed to drive at the moment.

An hour with his kids calmed Ashton right down. Luke stayed close, playing with Lynn, keeping a hand on Ashton’s knee, generally being a reassuring presence. When he thought Ashton was calm enough, he darted off to find Lauren.

She was in the kitchen, taking advantage of the twins’ distraction to make dinner. The kitchen smelled like thick, rich homemade tomato sauce, the kind that Luke associated with the Irwin family. Both siblings loved to cook, and had learned the recipe from their mum, with slight personal alterations.

“Ash blends up spinach and kale in the blender so  the twins eat more veggies,” Luke said.

Lauren hummed. “Of course he does. I’ll chuck some in, and then dump a metric tonne of parmesan in to balance it out, once I get the pasta pot on. What’s up, Luke?”

Luke shuffled his feet. “Well…” he started, and told Lauren about the band dinner, making sure to make big eyes and hint at Ashton’s somewhat pitiful social life.

By the time Ashton came into the kitchen to check on them, Lauren was entirely convinced.

“So I’ll be feeding us three here, and you two will go to your band dinner,” she informed Ashton. She passed one of the ceramic adult plates to Luke, followed by the two plastic kiddy plates that the twins’ used. A handful of silverware went on top.

Luke dutifully went to lay the table, being careful not to smirk at Ashton.

“Oh, but you’ve already made food for all of us and I don’t--”

“Ashton, the whole point of having me here was so you can relax a bit. Go have fun with your band.”

Ashton shot Luke a pleading look. Luke just grinned sunnily.

“If you're sure,” Ashton said with much reluctance.

“I'm very sure. Get out of here.” Lauren practically pushed Luke and Ashton out the door. Ashton tried to give Lauren last-minute instructions on taking care of the twins. Lauren was having none of it.

“Let me guess,” Ashton said once they were in Luke’s child paraphernalia-free rental car. “You bribed Lauren.”

“I didn't, but I make no promises about Michael. Or Calum.” Luke pulled them smoothly out of the driveway. He almost turned into oncoming lane but quickly corrected. Ashton only had half a heart attack.

“This isn't going to just be a band dinner, is it.”

“Oh, no, you're totally fucked. But at least you're getting on with it.”

Michael and Calum weren't the house when they arrived. Luke and Ashton settled onto the couch to wait, Ashton tapping his feet nervously. When the others arrived, slamming the door behind them, he nearly jumped out of his skin.

“So,” Calum said, setting a plastic shopping bag onto the table. Michael followed, carrying two boxes of pizza. “Ashton, we’re going to play a game.”

Ashton looked nervous. “Okay?”

“It’s called truth or drink. We ask you questions, you answer them. If you don’t want to answer, you have to take a shot.” Calum pulled glass bottles out of the bag and showed them briefly to Ashton. “If we think you’re lying, you have to take a shot. Honest answers are rewarded with pizza. Michael, show the man the pizza.” Michael obediently opened up the box of pizza and displayed it.

“You do realize the most I’ve drunk in the past five years is maybe a couple of beers with Feldy maybe twice a year,” Ashton said, raising an eyebrow. “So my tolerance is fucked and I’d rather not end up in the hospital with blood-alcohol poisoning, because then _you two_ would have to take care of my children.”

Luke hugged Ashton from behind, shaking his head. “As if I’d let them be in charge of the twins.”

“So are you not drinking, then?”

“Oh, I’m drinking. I’m just drinking a lot less than you will.”

Ashton grimaced. “As much fun as being interrogated while drunk sounds like, can we tone it down? Just so I don’t, you know, die?”

Calum folded his arms across his chest. “I like how you’re both assuming he’s going to refuse to answer so many questions that he gets drunk. He answers questions truthfully, he doesn’t have to drink.”

Ashton raised his eyebrows, completely unimpressed.

“You used to be more fun,” Michael complained.

Ashton snorted. “No, I’m pretty sure I was this much of a buzzkill before.”

Michael and Calum exchanged glances. “I seem to remember a lot of really long nights on tour--” Michael started.

Ashton flushed.

“Don’t lie and you won’t have to get drunk. Calum, pour the man a strong fucking drink,” Michael said sweetly.

Ashton swallowed nervously. He knew that they knew he was brutally honest while drunk and they were definitely banking on that.

“Being that someone--”

“ _Luke--_ ”

“--forgot to buy better mixers, you can have vodka and coke or rum and coke.”

Ashton made a face. “I can’t have just coke?”

“You can have tequila shots.”

“Uh, rum then.”

“Fantastic.” Calum made everyone drinks, Ashton’s distinctly more alcoholic than anyone else’s. “Drink up, Irwin. We’re gonna have some fun.”

Ashton spilled. Everything. It only really took two drinks and a dozen rounds of truth or drink, but every secret he’d had over the past five years was interrogated out of him. The whole Bryana situation, why he hadn’t told them, how he’d managed on his own. There was a ten minute interlude where he sobbed on Luke’s shoulder about how guilty he felt for eating meat in order to make his kids eat protein.

In return, Michael, Calum and Luke told him what he’d missed with the band.

There was a lot, more than Ashton knew he’d be able to remember. There were stories that were now inside jokes that Ashton would never be fully part of, tangents describing people they’d met and dated and broken up with, bits of places they’d been and tried to make home.

Ashton absorbed what he could, tried to remember what he knew he wouldn’t, drank more than was probably advisable, and fell asleep on Calum and Luke.

\--

When they had a rough album assembled, the assortment of songs narrowed down to twenty-five good demos and waiting to be cut down further, Feldy threw them a pool party. It wasn’t a quiet affair, but a small one--the Feldmanns, the Irwins, and the rest of the band. Lynn demanded Luke braid her hair (offending Michael in the process) while Bry wondered aloud if the pool would make his hair turn green. Lauren shlepped in the cooler, despite Ashton’s attempts to help. It was domestic, and apparently Luke wasn’t the only one to notice that.

After a month around the twins, Luke supposed he should have known better than to underestimate them and their conniving ways.

“You’re gonna be our daddy, right, Lop?” Bry asked, eyebrows raised inquisitively.

Across the yard, Lynn was happily cannonballing into the pool over and over again and Ashton was watching worriedly to make sure she didn’t slip and fall.

Luke dropped his water bottle, spattering water all over the patio. “Bryan, your daddy’s over there.”

Bry shrugged, looking unconcerned as he picked at his hamburger. Feldy and Ashton had argued for an hour about the ethics of feeding children meat, and Ashton had won on the basis of nutrition and moral discussions when the children were old enough to understand.

“Yup,” he said, picking the cheese off. Luke gave him a stern look until Bry sighed and put the cheese back on. “But Daddy likes you, more than he likes Mommy. So you’re gonna be our daddy too.”

Luke tried not to gape. “That’s not really how it works, Bry.”

“Why not?” Bry blinked up at Luke.

“Well, being a daddy is a lot of responsibility, and I don’t think Ash--your dad wants to share that. He loves you and Lynn a whole lot.”

Bry pouted. “Daddy said you weren’t our daddy too, but you had to pick to be our daddy. Can you pick to be our daddy?”

“I will...I will think about it?”

Bry was satisfied with that and trotted off to go swim with his sister, abandoning his hamburger.

Shaking his head, Luke went in search of Ashton.

“I think your kids are trying to set us up,” Luke told Ashton, chuckling a little. Bry and Lynn were still splashing around in the Feldmann’s pool with the Feldmann kids. Feldy’s son Julian was their favorite babysitter, being eleven years older than them and _cool_ to boot. Milla, Feldy’s daughter was equally cool, even though she was only nine years older.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” Ashton said, flushing. Feldy’s wife excused herself, not even bothering to hide her laughter even a little bit. “Bry started wondering if you were going to be their new dad since you were staying with us so much and you didn’t leave after Lauren got here, and I thought I’d diffused it but apparently not enough--I’ll have another talk with him, I am so, so sorry.”

“Ash, it’s fine! I think it’s hilarious. But we do make a pretty good team, if you don’t mind me saying so, and I’ll be glad to help you out still on tour.”

“What’s going on?” Michael asked, popping up behind Luke, who did not emit a manly shriek. It was more of a dignified noise of surprise. “Jesus, dude, are you a man or a cat in the midst of being strangled?”

While Luke stammered out his indignities, Ashton rolled his eyes and answered Michael’s question. “My kids think Luke’s their new dad.”

Luke made a point of snorting, to show how silly he found the idea. Michael, on the other hand, didn’t even look all that convinced.

“Well, you kind of are co-parenting,” Michael said. “Also, have you seen my hat?”

“The giant straw monstrosity?” Luke asked, raising an eyebrow. “I think Julian and Milla co-opted it as a frisbee.”

“I’m going to fucking murder them and dump their bodies in the pool,” Michael said cheerfully. “Right. Where did Milla go? I’ve got a twelve year old tyke to torture for information.”

“I really am sorry about Bry,” Ashton said, as Michael bounded off. “And now that Lauren’s here, you really can go stay with the boys again. I’m sure you miss quiet mornings without the Wiggles.”

“I’ve lived out of Michael and Calum’s pockets for the past five years. And eight AM Wiggles is way easier to deal with than eight AM Michael.”

Both Ashton and Luke shuddered.

“So I’ll gladly stay as long as you’ll have me,” Luke continued. “Unless--you’re kicking me out? Because then I’ll clear out--”

“No no no, I just meant--you’ve been an enormous help but you don’t _have_ to help us if you don’t want--”

“I mean, I don’t want to impose--”

“But I’d really like you to stay--”

Luke and Ashton burst out laughing at the same time.

“I guess I’ll be sticking around, if you don’t mind.”

“As long as my toddlers aren’t cramping your style.”

“Cramping my style? Ashton, what decade are you living in?”

“Oh, fuck off.”

“Still. I guess I’ll be sticking around with you, if you don’t mind.”

“I don’t! You’ve been helpful!”

Luke found himself grinning dopily at Ashton even when a very wet Lynn launched herself at him and demanded he and Luke come play Marco Polo with them.

Luke helped take the little Irwins home. Lauren’s arms were full with their pool bag and the kids’ toys, so Luke cradled Lynn against his side, letting her tuck her head against his shoulder. Ashton supported Bry, and they managed to get everyone into the SUV.

“I never asked,” Luke said, once everyone was in and Lauren was engrossed in her phone. “What’s up with their accents?”

Lauren looked up. “Bastard lost his, so his kids won’t get teased at school, the fucking loser.”

“Language,” Ashton and Luke said together.

Lauren rolled her eyes. “They’re _sleeping_.”

“She’s not wrong though,” Ashton said. “My accent’s always faded faster than any of yours, you remember that. And I’ve lived here awhile--it’s only when I’m around you guys or my family that I started sounding Aussie. So since Lynn and Bry learned to speak from me--they sound mostly American, with a few exceptions.”

“We’ll have to fix that,” Luke declared.

When they got back to the house, Luke carried Bry and Ashton carried Lynn up to their bedrooms. It felt domestic, helping care for them, being able to change a sleepy Bry into his footie pyjamas and tuck him in.

“Lop,” Bry called, voice thick with sleep, watching as Luke tried to sneak out. “Sing to me? Daddy always does.”

“I--okay,” Luke said, and sat down by Bry’s bedside. “What song do you want?”

“Anything,” Bry said promptly.

Luke thought a bit--if Ashton sang to Bry, Luke would too. He wracked his brain and decided to sing a slow version of one of their sample demo tracks.

Bry dozed off as Luke hit the second chorus, so he finished the song and slipped out. He almost ran smack into Ashton.

“Bry can’t sleep without a song,” Ashton explained, making to move into Bry’s room. “I only just got Lynn down, otherwise I’d have been in earlier.”

“I already did,” Luke said. “He went out like a light.”

Ashton looked stunned. “Oh. That’s good. Uh.” He relaxed, tension draining from his shoulders. “Want a drink?”

“Uh--”

“Just--just wine, or a beer, or something light like that. I’m tired from today and it sounds really nice to relax with a glass of wine and a marathon of something I haven’t seen in years. Like--Game of Thrones, maybe.”

“Sounds good,” Luke said, and barely managed to stifle a snort when Ashton immediately muttered “feels good” under his breath.

“Should I grab Lauren?” Luke asked.

“No...just you and me? If you’re cool with that? In ten minutes, in our--my room?”

Luke smiled, feeling his eyes crinkle up and everything. “Yeah. Yeah, that sounds great.”

 


	6. vi. who's right, who's wrong, who really cares?

** 2016 **

** vi. who’s right, who’s wrong, who really cares? **

Bryana tugged him close by his belt loops. “Hey, handsome,” she said to him, sliding up closer. “The twins are sleeping. Wanna have some fun?”

“Like a beer and a nap?”

Bryana giggled, a bright tinkling sound he hadn’t heard in months. “Well, we could--but I was thinking something more like--this.” She slid her hand down his chest to palm at his crotch and he jolted. “Good idea?”

“ _Great_ idea.”

He let Bryana lead him into his bedroom, let her tumble them into his bed.

He woke a few hours later to crying through the baby monitor. Bryana shushed him and went to care for their children. As she left, she dragged her fingertips across his chest, and it felt like a promise.

Ashton was happy for the next few weeks, because it felt like everything was going to work out. He and Bryana were settling into a relationship, co-parenting well. He was falling in love with her all over again, was thinking about the ring he’d never really gotten rid of.

Given how things were working out, he and his lawyer were sketching out a plan--he’d extend on his year deferment under Sony, break the news to the boys, deal with their upset as it came, and take as much time off tour as he could to be with Bryana and the kids.

He took the kids for walks, changed diapers, and planned. Maybe Modest had a list of approved nannies who would come on tour--and besides, this was LA. Someone somewhere would be willing to watch infants and go on tour. Bryana was beautiful, as always, and modelling was just waiting for her.

So they’d work out a schedule, where she’d be off modelling while he was home writing and recording, and she’d take care of the twins when he was touring--or maybe she could come with them. It was all going so well, so wonderfully, that Ashton almost forgot that his bandmates didn’t know.

“I’m gonna introduce you to your uncles,” Ashton said, bouncing Lynn in his arms and watching as Bry squirmed up at the mobile. “They’ll be mad they weren’t there for the birth, but they’re going to love you so much. Your Uncle Luke has always wanted to be around little kids, I bet he’ll spoil you rotten. And your Uncles Mikey and Cal, they don’t know much about kids so I bet you’re going to get a million presents so you’ll call them the favorite uncle, even if you can’t talk yet.”

Lynn burbled up at him happily, two months old and a cheerful baby--when she was being given attention. Bry was quieter, more content to nap the day away, and when he wasn’t napping he’d just stare at the world around him with big, unblinking eyes. Honestly, Ashton worried more about Bry; if something went wrong, Lynn would tell him. Bry, on the other hand, was so quiet that Ashton could be none the wiser if he didn’t keep a close eye on his son.

He gently set Lynn down, and she immediately tried to nestle into her brother. Ashton supposed it was more natural for them, since they’d spent nine months curled together in Bryana’s belly. He took a photo of them like that and immediately opened his phone to text it to his bandmates.

Then he remembered that they didn’t know about the babies. He froze, feeling his expression shatter, then forced himself to send it to his mother instead.

He sat down in the rocking chair and outlined his plan on his phone, then saved it and went to run another washing load of baby onesies and barfed-upon shirts.

It was a solid plan, it would work--until Bryana smashed the plan completely to bits when he came home from a walk with the babies to find Bryana in the kitchen with two suitcases packed and standing by the door.

“What’s going on, Bryana?” he asked. Bry and Lynn were sound asleep in the stroller and he didn’t want to wake them up, so he tried to keep his voice low. “What’s--what’s this?”

“I’m not cut out to be a mom,” she said, and took a step back from him.

“What do you mean? You’re great at it!”

“No, Ashton, you’re great at it. You know when they’re hungry, when they need a diaper change. You can get Lynn to sleep. Hell, you change a diaper without getting peed on. They only want me for my tits, like I’m a--a--a _cow_ for them. I can’t--this can’t be my life, Ashton!”

“Yes, it can! It doesn’t--it won’t always be like this.”

“You’re right--because I won’t be here. I won’t fight for custody.”

“So you don’t _want_ them?”

“Don’t say that!” she shouted. Bry squalled, clearly shocked awake by the shouting. Ashton gave them a worried glance, but then Bryana was shouting at him and he was shouting back, until Lynn burst into great horrible tears.

While Ashton was trying to soothe her, Bryana took her bags and left. Ashton wouldn’t see her again until the custody hearing, where, true to her word, she signed over full custody. His plan changed then. He bought out of his Capitol contract entirely, didn’t tell the boys because he had no idea what to say, that he’d not only fucked up the band but he’d fucked up his family, and given enough time, he was probably going to fuck up his kids too.

Before, when Bryana had left him the first time, he’d sunk into a black hole and lost three days. He couldn’t do that now, not when there were two small humans depending entirely on him. He swallowed his pride and called his mother, begged her to come and bought her a plane ticket for the next flight out. Lauren and Harry would stay with an aunt, and she’d come for as long as he needed her.

She took a taxi to his house from the airport, immediately bustled the house into what she decreed was order. She set up in the bedroom that had been Bryana’s, untouched in the month that Bryana had been sleeping with Ashton.

Anne-Marie spent a month with them, helping Ashton get his life in order.

“You need to get a nanny,” she said, looking at him over a cup of tea. The house was a mess, but it was at least an organized mess; they could find things and that was what mattered. Lynn and Bry cooed at each other in the kitchen playpen, even though neither was quite large enough to wander around on their own, making the playpen largely unnecessary.

“You didn’t have one,” Ashton protested. “I’ll be fine.”

“I had a big strong boy helping me,” she reminded him gently. “And your father was--well, he left when you were older. Lauren and Harry’s dad...he left when you were able to help me. I wasn’t looking after infant twins and I still wanted the help. I had my mother and your aunt, and it was still hard. _You_ need a nanny.”

“I won’t pass them off to be raised by someone else.”

She shook her head. “That’s not what I meant. You need someone to take care of them when you’re sick, or tired, when you need a break. You need someone reliable, who they know, who can take over for a few hours while you take a nap or do laundry. It’s why having two parents makes your life infinitely easier. I can’t stay indefinitely to help you, or I would, but Lauren and Harry need me too, and you don’t want to come back to Sydney. So you need a nanny to help you out.”

She helped him pick the first nanny, an au pair named Cecily. She took the spare bedroom and helped with twins while working her way through university. Ashton liked her well enough but they both mostly kept to themselves, Cecily because she was shy unless she was around the kids, and Ashton because he wasn’t sure how much he wanted to trust her with his personal life. After a year, they were quietly friendly, though they never interacted much outside of the house. Cecily stayed for two years, while she finished her university degree. She still babysat occasionally, when Ashton had no other options, but she wasn’t a central part of their lives together.

When she left, Ashton’s heart broke. They hadn’t been close, and certainly had nothing near the level of friendship Ashton had once had with his bandmates, but Cecily had been the closest thing Ashton had to a friend over the last three years.

Every nanny after Cecily was an unqualified disaster. Their next nanny, Ryan, noticed something was wrong with Bry’s hearing, and left in the middle of that chaos. The third, fourth, and fifth nannies Ashton just didn’t get along with and the twins actively hated. They’d burned through four nannies in less than a year, and Ashton was too tired to try to find yet another nanny that wouldn’t work out. By that time, the twins were three years old, and Ashton decided it might just be best for him to be their only caretaker, with a few regular babysitters rather than a live-in nanny.

It would work. It would _have_ to work.

It got easier, eventually. The twins didn’t need so much help with basic life needs anymore, even if getting them dressed in the morning could sometimes be a struggle. But he couldn’t afford days spent wallowing in bed. Even if he tried to, the twins would come find him, demanding food and entertainment and just...attention, and he had to give it to them.

His hair grew long, since he just...forgot to get it cut. When he took Bry and Lynn in for cuts at a kids’ haircuttery, he managed to convince the stylist to give him a trim. He never wore his contacts anymore, and filled his wardrobe with easily cleaned clothes that wouldn’t earn him scowls from other parents. As a result, he barely got recognized, though sometimes someone would double-take at him in the street. They never came up and said anything, for which Ashton was grateful. The only time he’d been publicly recognized had been an unqualified disaster, and the memory still stung bitterly years after the fact.

Sometimes it was just too overwhelming, one of the weeks where both the twins were sick and Ashton was feeling poorly himself, where there was just so much to get done and so little time to do it and Ashton could have just screamed with how little time he had to even think. On those nights, it wouldn’t be uncommon for Ashton to break down crying with his back against the washing machine, out of washing soap and with toys scattered across the floor. It wasn’t uncommon for him to shake and feel the aching loneliness clawing at his chest, because his friends were his kids and his kids were only three years old.

What he wouldn’t give for Michael to drop by with a case of beer, for Calum to cajole him into a songwriting session, for Luke to stare at him with big Bambi eyes until he confessed everything wrong. But it was four years gone since he’d talked to them, four years since he’d broken every reason they’d ever had to trust him, and four years and two children too late for him to make amends.

Ashton looked at his house, at his kids, at his life, and tried not to feel so overwhelmingly alone.

 


	7. vii. there are places up here we can hide

** 2021 **

** vii. there are places up here we can hide **

When Luke had been young, his mum had been full of sayings. She’d had a proverb for everything, to the point where the Hemmings brothers started wondering if she had a book stashed somewhere, with just lists upon lists of relatively useless quotes for them to think on. She’d had one that he only fuzzily remembered, something about complacency and danger being around the corner.

He probably should have remembered it sooner.

They had regular trips into the label office, at least one of them being needed in to discuss tour contracts or report in on the recording progress or something inane. Since their PR was housed in the same building, it wasn’t uncommon for Ashton to get hauled in, since he needed to review a myriad of contractual situations that might involve his kids. Today, though, was the first day that the twins had to come in too, for security badge photos.

The label sent two cars to the Irwin house, where Calum and Michael had spent the night. They split up, Calum and Luke into one car with Lynn (who had decided to stick to Luke like glue that day), and Lauren, Michael, Ashton and Bry in the other. Adam, one of their long term security guards, went with Luke’s group.

Halfway to the label building, Luke got a text that Bry had a tummyache and they were stopping at a pharmacy for child-strength ibuprofen, and not to wait up. Luke thought nothing of it until they rounded the corner and saw an alarmingly large number of people with cameras waiting outside the building door.

Luke froze, dropping his phone on his lap. “Is anyone else coming into the studio today? Anyone big?

Calum frowned, craning his neck to get a better view. “Not that I know of. This is definitely a setup for someone, right? Someone needs to get papped going into the offices.”

The car slowed right in front of the horde. The driver paused, then did a lap of the block.

“It’s us,” Luke said grimly, realization dawning. “They need to pap us going in with Ash and the kids.”

“Fuck,” Calum said, and only realized his mistake when Lynn repeated the word cheerfully.

“You two have to go in before I’m swarmed,” the driver called over his shoulder.  Calum and Luke exchanged looks.

“Adam,” Luke said, passing his bag to Calum. “You ready?”

“Wasn’t planning on this mess today, but sure. You don’t want to wait for the other car?”

“We need Lynn inside, ASAP. Luke, you’re carrying her?”

“I’m sprinting with her.” Luke unbuckled Lynn from her carseat. “Hey, Lynn? We’re gonna play a game. I’m gonna pick you up and I need you to close your eyes and cover your ears. If you do it all the way to the door, you can watch an extra episode of the Wiggles this afternoon and I won’t tell your daddy. I bet Bry can’t do it,” he added, when she looked hesitant.

The car slowed to a stop. Lynn covered her ears with the palms of her hands as the paps surged forward, shouting. Lynn flinched from the noise, burying her face in Luke’s neck.

“Lop?” she asked, uncertainly, but any answer Luke could have had was nearly drowned out by the noise from the paps as the van’s door slid open. There weren’t many by Hollywood standards, maybe a near dozen, but it was a lot for a little kid. Adam jumped out of the front and shielded Luke as he cradled Lynn to his chest.

It would have been a good plan if a pap hadn’t grabbed Lynn’s hair and _yanked_.

Lynn, naturally, burst into tears. Luke and Calum flipped off every pap in the vicinity, and barrelled inside. Inside, Adam ushered them into an elevator and up to a conference room. The elevator was silent except for Lynn’s sobs.

“I’m sorry, sweetie,” Luke said, bouncing her a little. He could feel hot tears dampening his collar.

He tried to set her down in the kid-friendly waiting room. She let herself be put on the ground but refused to let go of Luke, despite the kind receptionist kneeling next to her and offering a variety of sweets.

Calum came in a minute later, carrying Lynn’s backpack and Luke’s satchel.

“The twins okay?”

“They went after Lynn,” Luke said grimly. He carefully prised himself loose from Lynn’s grip of steel, and watched as she practically magnetized to Calum. “She’s mostly stopped crying now, but it was bad.”

“Ashton and Bry are in the other car,” Calum said, recognition dawning. “You’re going to distract the paps.”

“More like make enough of a scene that they aren’t paying attention to Bry,” Luke said grimly. “Adam, get Ashton on the phone and get them to come around the back. Cal, you gonna help me?”

“Yeah. But Luke?”

“Yeah?”

“You take care of Lynn. I’ll get ahold of Ashton and Mike.”

Luke looked like he wanted to argue, but a solemn, knowing glance, sent him back to Lynn and the receptionist. Lauren showed up exactly eight minutes later, having wound in through the back door with Adam.

Fifteen minutes later, Ashton and Bry came in. Bry was sniffling into Ashton’s shirt. Calum and Michael weren’t far behind. All three adults looked like they were barely containing their (entirely justified) rage.

Ashton knelt to be with Lynn and Lauren. Luke gently disentangled himself and exchanged glances with Michael and Calum.

“They were shouting some really nasty things at Bry,” Michael said lowly as they pushed into the conference room. “Insulting his dad, his mum. They started going after Bry’s intelligence next.”

“Fuck paps, man,” Calum said empathetically.

One of their PR reps tried to say something inane and pleasant, like they weren’t missing a member of the band and they hadn’t just been assaulted outside the building. That really started the shitstorm anew.

“They’re just kids,” Luke roared. He glanced through the glass door, where Ashton was sitting on the floor, reassuring his kids with a low, steady voice. Luke recognized the look in Ashton’s eyes. There’d be hell to pay for messing with his children. Lynn and Bry were clinging to each other. “Who the fuck decided to let paps anywhere _near_ them?”

“It was supposed to be a quiet shot,” The PR rep said. It wasn’t Amanda, which just pissed Luke off even more. “Irwin signed off on it.”

“And did he sign off on that clusterfuck out there?”

The PR rep at least had the grace to look embarrassed.

Luke pulled at his hair, snarled, and pushed out of the conference room. He’d made it halfway to the bathroom down the hall before a quiet “Lop” called him back.

He forced his anger back and tried to put on a reassuring smile.

“Hey, Bry. You okay?”

“M’scared,” Bry admitted. Luke slid down the wall to sit next to the twins. Bry crawled into Luke’s lap. Lynn still clung to her brother, so she came too.

Ashton gave Luke a tight smile.

“Go,” Luke mouthed. “Go shout at them.” He shifted the twins so they could be more comfortable. “We won’t let that happen again, Bry. They’re big meanies and now they’re sorry and they won’t do it again.

Bry clung to Luke’s shirt, sniffling. His hearing aid was out, Luke noticed. Lynn tucked her head onto Luke’s other shoulder, exactly mirroring her brother. Luke hummed, bouncing them slightly. He looked up just in time to see Calum taking a picture.

“Why?” Luke mouthed. Calum shrugged and gave him a shit-eating grin.

Fifteen minutes later, Ashton came back, looking exhausted. Luke would have gone to hug him but he was a little trapped by the sleeping twins. So he raised his eyebrows instead. Ashton sighed and sat next to him.

“This wasn’t supposed to happen,” Ashton said. “Amanda promised it would only be one or two paps, and they’d keep a respectful distance.” He rolled his eyes. “I was stupid. We’ll get an injunction or something.”

Ashton leaned over to kiss the top of Lynn’s head, and then Luke’s cheek. Carefully, he shifted Lynn over to his own lap, then leaned his head back against the wall and sighed deeply. Lynn sniffled.

Calum took another photo.

“If this continues I’m going to have to drop out,” Ashton said grimly, carding his fingers through Lynn’s hair. “They’re my priority.”

“We’re working on that,” Calum said. He’d become fiercely protective of little Bry and was furious that a crush of paps and fans had terrified the twins so much. “My plan? Train them to bite when anyone grabs them without permission. Or teach them a few obscene gestures.”

“That’s a little extreme,” Michael cautioned.

“Not extreme enough,” Ashton grumbled. He shifted Lynn on his lap. “That can’t happen again.”

Later, when they were heading home, Luke checked his phone. There was a tweet from Calum with a photo attached--the photo of the Ashton, the little Irwins, and himself. The twins were curled into tired commas, while Luke and Ashton were talking seriously. Ashton’s face was turned enough that it wasn’t visible in the photo. That combined with his haircut could make him any potential musician attached to their upcoming reunion tour, maybe a manager or just a family friend.

Calum had tweeted it with a short and to the point caption:

 **@calum5sos:** long, exhausting day for family and friends

Michael had chimed in with a longer tweet.

 **@michael5sos:**  any dick that scares a kid for a higher payday can go fuck themselves

 **@michael5sos:** it’s not cool and it’s not okay

He’d answered fan questions about what had happened in terse, to the point responses, which was generally unlike him enough that people knew he was pretty upset.

There was a lot of fan buzz about why Michael and Calum were so protective of these kids and this extra person, but somehow Ashton’s return hadn’t been leaked. Luke assumed a bigger deal would happen tomorrow, when the pictures of Ashton hit the tabloids. For now, though, they were able to take the kids home in peace.

As it turned out, most people assumed Ashton was doing something solo with the label, despite the fact that he’d arrived with Michael. There was some degree of fan speculation about Ashton rejoining the band, but those were the diehards from the early days who still loved their debut and sophomore albums best of all. Somehow, miraculously, no one connected the Ashton-in-pap-pictures to the person in Calum’s instagram. Maybe because instagram was such an outdated site, but still. Luke had expected _something_.

When no one came after the twins, demanding more information, Ashton relaxed.

“You’re still coming on the mini-tour, right?” Luke asked, three days before they were scheduled to pack up onto the buses. “I mean, with the twins. You can come and leave them with Laur--”

“Not an option,” Ashton said, flicking through Netflix. “Besides, Lynn is really excited to visit San Francisco.”

“Really?”

“...Might’ve sung San Francisco to them as a lullaby enough times that she thinks it’s as much a magical place as Narnia.”

Luke barked out a laugh. “Don’t tell Calum that, he’s been sketching out a kids’ book starring the twins. Actually, don’t tell the twins that, it’s a surprise for their sixth birthday.”

“Isn’t Calum a terrible artist?”

“The worst. He’s trying, though. So, tour?”

“We’re coming,” Ashton said, putting his laptop mouse aside and letting their movie choice go. “If it goes badly, Josh said he could fill in last minute.”

“It’s not going to go badly,” Luke said, with all the confidence of a man who had no idea how wrong things could go with two young children and two young-children like adults in tow.

\--

Unsurprisingly, it wasn’t the twins or the paps who made Ashton’s life difficult on the day it came to move into the bus temporarily. They flew to Seattle, where they were starting off, and the twins behaved beautifully on the flight, Bry sitting next to Ashton and Lynn with Lauren. Their suitcases had come through baggage on the first try, and no one harassed them at the airport. They found the venue without getting lost, and neither twin complained about their granola bar snacks.

No, it was Michael goddamn Clifford giving Ashton his throbbing tension headache, and Ashton didn’t know why he was surprised anymore.

“I’ve taped over the bad words on everything I own,” Michael informed Ashton hurriedly, skidding up to Ashton after Lauren took the twins to meet some of the roadies and play tag on the grassy lawn. “And I bought a bunch of plug protectors. And I’ve--”

“Michael! What the fu--heck did you do to our bus?” Calum shouted, only slightly muffled by the bus door.

Ashton gave Michael a quizzical look.

“I found a tutorial on the internet on how to pad sharp corners with pool noodles,” Michael said defensively. “We’re on a bus that’s like, always moving and we’ve got lots of sharp corners--”

“How many pool noodles?”

“I bought all they had at Wal-Mart?”

“Which was…?”

Michael blinked. “Uh, well. A lot. Less than a fuckton, but more than a shitton.”

Ashton sighed and entered the bus. Sure enough, any edge at child height or lower was protected by a brightly colored pool noodle bumper. The visual result was not unlike a piñata factory had exploded, or perhaps a pool party had gone awfully, awfully wrong.

Luke was poking at the pool noodles in delight. Calum looked horrified.

“How’m I supposed to bring back girls to our bus now?” he demanded. Luke shook his head.

“We’ve got toddlers on the bus now. You’ll have to save it for hotel nights. Or find a girl who likes kids.” Luke paused. “On the other hand, maybe stay away from girls who like kids.”

Calum groaned and went to bash his head on the wall, only to be stopped by a foam pool noodle.

“I mean, it’s a five show tour. You can go without bringing a girl back for two weeks, dude,” Michael chipped in.

Ashton rubbed his forehead. “I don't think we need the pool noodles, Michael. Lynn and Bry are pretty good at not injuring themselves.”

“But have they lived in a moving vehicle before?” Michael demanded, grinning proudly. “This way they’ll be totally safe!”

Luke leaned over. “Honestly, I think the pool noodles are more for when Michael and Calum get drunk. They need the padding.”

Ashton stifled a laugh. “Can we compromise and only pad the necessary corners? We don’t need to cover every surface on the bus.”

“Are you sure--” Michael started.

Ashton gave him a flat glare. “I am very sure.”

“But--”

“No buts,” Ashton said, and went to remove some the more ridiculously placed pool noodles.

\--

Ashton’s first show back was incredible. The first show of their five-city “throwback tour” had sold well, people curious as to why 5sos was only playing songs off their first two albums and newer fans excited for the change to see older songs played live.

They hadn’t officially announced Ashton’s return to the band, this throwback tour officially Ashton’s trial run. They wanted to see how the audience would react and provide Ashton with an out if this short tour proved a longer tour would be impossible.

Ashton fiddled with his drumsticks as their opener finished (it was Hey Violet, for old times’ sake) and bounced on his toes, waiting for their set to be ready to go. They’d dug the hydraulics from ROWYSO for his drum kit out, and he was admittedly nervous. Despite the fact that they’d been rehearsing for a while now, actually performing was always an adventure in its own right.

“You’ll do great,” Luke reassured him. His first guitar hung at his hip, his in-ear monitors dangling over his shoulders. Ashton was struck by the strangeness of this situation: it had always been Ashton comforting Luke before, not the other way around. Still, he was glad for it.

They gave the signal for Ashton to settle into his kit. This was familiar and wonderful, something Ashton could be sure of. He spun his sticks and started the show.

The crowd _screamed_ when they realized who it was at the drum kit. 5sos had had touring drummers before, but never a permanent replacement. Ashton remained the only official drummer they’d ever had, and his presence promised a special show.

When Ashton’s face came up on the big screens, there was a fan meltdown the likes of which Ashton hadn’t even hoped to elicit. According to their managers, the second the news officially hit the internet, the rest of their shows sold out _immediately_.

Halfway through the show, Luke was giving Ashton carefully worried looks. It was only when Ashton gave him a double-thumbs up during one of Michael’s talking interludes that Luke relaxed and gave Michael a thumbs up. Michael in turn waved at Lauren, off in the wings.

“We’re bringing a couple of special people on stage tonight,” Michael called. He’d always had such a marvellous stage presence and had only gotten better over the past few years.

Ashton carefully detangled himself from the drum kit and hurried over to the side of the stage where Lauren and the twins were waiting.

“We’ve got a couple of little Irwins here tonight!”

The roar from the crowd was enough that Ashton was thankful for the big muffling headphones and earplugs both the twins were wearing. While Lynn raced out on stage to hug Luke, Bry clung to Lauren and asked to be carried, only letting go when his dad reached him.

The crowd cooed and screamed over the way Ashton held Bry on his hip.

“Hey, Ash?”

“Yeah, Luke?”

“Did the little Irwins inherit your musical ability?”

“I dunno, Luke, why don’t you ask them yourself?”

Luke laughed and knelt to Lynn’s height. “You good at guitar, Lynn?”

She nodded and spoke into Luke’s mic. “Daddy taught me to play--Green Day.”

There was a stunned beat of quiet--not silence, never silence in a concert arena like this--before the crowd screamed even louder.

Luke knelt and helped Lynn hold the guitar, and the crowd screamed as Lynn carefully picked out the intro to Boulevard of Broken Dreams, Michael and Calum quickly joining in.

Ashton held Bry, watched Luke with Lynn, and soaked in the beauty of this moment.

\--

Lauren had put the twins to bed in the bus by the time 5sos finished their second encore and done the whole post-show meet-n-greet thing with a few contest winners.

“Want to grab dinner?” Luke asked as he and Ashton walked into the parking lot behind the venue, then flushed. “Or, midnight breakfast, I guess.”

Ashton glanced at his bus. “I--the kids are asleep.”

“I meant--just us.” Luke grinned sheepishly. “Like we used to. Ah, never mind.”

“No, I’d--I’d love to.” Ashton smiled and sent off a quick text to Lauren, letting her know he’d be out late. He got a mostly intelligible text back, telling him to go have fun. He guessed by her spelling that she--and the twins--were mostly asleep.

Michael and Calum had already taken off with part of the crew. The buses had a six am roll out time, meaning everyone was ready to cut loose a little, sleep all day, and then set up at the next venue. Their other option had been staying in a hotel overnight, but that would have meant a five am call time, and while bus beds weren’t the best beds in the world, they were at least beds that allowed for eight hours of continuous sleep.

Ashton pocketed his phone. “So where are we going?”

“Hadn’t planned that far, actually.”

They ended up at an all-night diner, one of the benefits of being in America. Their choices had been that or an all-night bowling alley, and they’d both looked at each other and decided on the diner. There were a few fans there, scattered around eating after the concert, but between the security (a beefy man named Adam with a no-nonsense demeanor) and a kind waitress, they were seated in a booth to the back and largely left alone.

The waitress gave them their drinks--coffee for Ashton and ridiculously sweet American iced tea for Luke--and left them with their menus. As she crossed the diner, Ashton saw her give a table of teenage girls a stern warning to leave their booth alone.

“Haven’t been out to a restaurant without the kids in years,” Ashton said, relaxing into his seat with his coffee. “Nice to not have to worry about paper kids menus and crayons.”

“Or about getting food in the right mouths?”

Ashton shrugged. “The vegetarian thing is relatively new for me. Until they were about three I ate whatever they didn’t. It’s...nice to have control over what I eat now. Makes me feel cleaner as a person.”

Luke snorted. “A lot of mac n cheese?”

“A lot of processed hot dogs,” Ashton said, rolling his eyes. “And they always knew when I switched out the Kraft dinner for anything organic. It was all I could do to sneak bites in between getting food into their mouths.”

Across the diner, Adam, their security guy, was chatting up a waitress and keeping an eye on the tables of fans. Luke had always liked Adam, a holdover from their first tour. As much as Adam was a friend, he was also very respectful of their privacy: he’d keep an eye on them and let them eat in peace, and they’d order him food for takeout, and it would work, like it always had.

Luke and Ashton chatted about how the show had gone, what they wanted to improve, pausing only to let the waitress take their orders. Their conversation didn’t break stride when their food was dropped off with no fanfare; they both tucked in ravenously and spoke through full mouthfuls as if six years hadn’t passed since the last time they’d done this.

Luke nudged Ashton’s foot with his own, causing Ashton to kick back with a raised eyebrow. Beneath the table, Luke hooked his ankle around Ashton’s and left it there. Ashton smiled and slid his plate over to Luke, letting him take some of his potato mash.

After eating, they went and took a few photos with fans, and let Adam drive them back to the venue in one of the omnipresent black SUVs. Once they were safely in the fenced-in bus area, Adam wandered off with his food and a jaunty wave.

It was always strange being outside a venue long after the show was over, long after even the most hardcore of fans had given up and gone home. Ashton said as much, causing Luke to snort.

The stairs for their bus were down, but the door was closed; Michael and Calum weren’t back yet.

Luke took Ashton’s hand and swung around so they were facing each other. He smiled, close enough to taste Ashton’s breath, and in a decision that was far, far too long in coming, leaned forward and kissed Ashton on the mouth.

“Is this okay?” he asked when they separated a small eternity later. Ashton’s eyelashes fanned dark across his cheekbones, his lips a little redder than usual.

“More than okay.” Ashton pressed forward and kissed Luke, longer and deeper this time. “Okay,” he said as his hands settled on Luke’s hips while Luke looped his arms around Ashton’s neck.

After a few long kisses where Luke could feel Ashton’s pulse, Luke pulled back. “Okay,” he said, and couldn’t help but take another kiss. “Okay. Are we just going to kiss outside the bus?”

Reminded of where they were, Ashton froze. “Oh god. Oh god, my kids are in there.”

“And they’re being minded by Lauren,” Luke said, cupping Ashton’s cheek. “Hey. Hey, you’re here with me.”

“I--I shouldn’t be doing this.”

“Ashton, did you have fun tonight? Having dinner with me?”

Ashton nodded, trembling under Luke’s hands.

“Did you like kissing me?”

Again, Ashton nodded.

“Then let yourself have this. We won’t go further until-- _unless_ you decide to. You call the shots here, Ashton.” Luke smiled to himself. “Tell me it’s alright, gimme the green light.”

Startled, Ashton laughed as Luke hummed a few bars of Green Light. He hadn’t thought about that song in years, and he couldn’t really remember who, specifically, had written it.

“Look,” Luke said. “I want you. I want you to be my bandmate and my--lover. Boyfriend. Whatever. I also want to be with your kids and I want to be with you on tour and off and I want to be with Bry when he gets his surgery and I want to teach Lynn guitar and I--I want a lot of things. Mostly, though, I want you to be happy. If I’m not going to do that for you--say so. And I’ll back off. You say no, it’s done. I won’t do anything you don’t want.”

Ashton breathed in deeply. “I think. I think I’m going to have to take you up on that for right now. The--saying no part. I’m--this is a lot to think about.”

Luke nodded. “Okay. Let’s take this as we go, okay? We go in there, we get to bed, take tomorrow as it comes, yeah?”

“Yeah. Thank you, Luke.”

Luke looked genuinely puzzled. “Thanks for what?”

“For understanding.”

At that, Luke cracked a smile. “It’s just what I’d want you to do for me, how I’d want anyone to be treated. I want you, and I like you a lot. Let’s not make this harder than it has to be.”

Luke let his hand rest at the small of Ashton’s back, and followed him into the bus. The twins were sleeping on the couch, piled onto Lauren.

“Oh thank god,” she said. “I was beginning to think I was trapped here.”

Ashton laughed quietly, the sound so purely happy. He gently prised Bry off of Lauren and disappeared into the bunks area. Luke followed suit with Lynn, helping Ashton tuck them into their bunks. When Ashton reemerged, Luke trailing behind, he hoped Lauren hadn’t heard his and Luke’s conversation outside the bus.

“Well, since the kiddies are asleep, wanna watch something not G-rated?” he asked, cheerful. “I think I know where Michael’s hiding his stash of action movies.”

\--

The second show went just as well, if not better. Ashton had always liked Portland. Since they were doing a couple of press days in Portland, most of Bus 1 shifted into a hotel for a few days. Not Ashton, Lauren and the twins, though--Ashton didn’t want to move his kids in and out of unfamiliar environments, though he did take advantage of Luke’s full bathroom to give each of the twins very bubbly baths. Luke had helped towel the kids off and dress them in their pyjamas the night before.

The buses were perfectly inhabitable even when they were stationary for a few days; after all, most of the crew managed it just fine.

On the first interview day, Luke knocked on the wood paneling next to Ashton’s bunk twenty minutes before they were due to their van for the trip to their first radio station of the day. The bus had been quiet when Luke entered, so he assumed Ashton had overslept, not an uncommon thing when sleeping in the dark, windowless bunk corridor.

“Hey, rise’n’shine!”

“Shh,” Ashton hissed. “I’m not the one you need to worry about waking up.”

Curious, Luke pulled back the curtain to discover Ashton pinned down by two sleeping children.

“Lynn had a nightmare,” Ashton explained quietly. Lynn was curled up on his chest, rising and sinking with each of Ashton’s breaths. Bry was tucked into Ashton’s side, lying on Ashton’s arm and holding his sister’s hand. “And Bry was sleeping with her in her bunk, so when she woke up, so did he.”

“Is this a wake them up, or let them be kind of scenario?”

“This is a gently dislodge them and put them in their own bunks and whe _re the fudge is Lauren_ kind of scenario.”

“ _Fudge_?”

“Shut up and move Bryan, Lucas Robert Hemmings.”

Luke held up his hands in defeat. “Right. Support the knees and head, right?”

“Under the shoulders,” Ashton corrected. “And careful not to knock his head.”

Once Bry was settled into the bottom bunk, thoroughly surrounded by pillows, Luke gently moved Lynn and deposited her into her own bunk. Ashton sighed deeply and swung himself out of his bunk.

“I've had to pee for three hours,” he explained, and darted off to the bathroom.

Lynn rolled over and snuffled. In the bunk above her, Lauren made a similar sleepy noise, inquisitive. Luke quietly made his way out of the bunks and settled back onto the couch.

“What’s up?” Ashton asked, finally appearing from the bathroom.

“Press day,” Luke reminded him, grimacing. “And trust me, _everyone_ wants to talk to you.”

“Oh, joy.” Ashton sighed. “Styling at the first interview?”

“You know it. Might want to change into something a little less...pyjama-ey, first, though.”

Ashton looked down at his DAD OF THE YEAR shirt and paint-stained sweatpants. “Yeah, fair point.”

\--

Luke was pretty sure he’d had nightmares less tense than that press day. The only thing anyone wanted to ask about was Ashton and the twins, except Ashton clammed up every time someone got a little too close for his comfort. That left Michael and Luke playing damage control, and Calum spent his day nursing a hangover, which only compounded the situation.

Once, when Ashton looked like he was going to bite a particularly invasive and hand-wavey reporter, Luke derailed the entire interview by taking off his shirt and declaring that it was now shirtless interview time, and that somehow managed to segue into a conversation that seemed to consist only of awful metaphors for sex.

Like, really awful metaphors.

As a result, when they finished their twelve hour day, Luke was completely ready to crash on the bus couch and watch something mindless with the twins. He could have gone up to his hotel room for some privacy, but he was really looking forward to spending downtime with Ashton--and the twins and Lauren, of course.

It seemed as if Lauren had had a day as equally awful. Lynn had woken up cranky, a mood that was only compounded at her father’s absence. Bry’s mood tended to echo his sister’s, so even when Lauren took the twins to the Oregon Zoo he was still sullen.

“They wouldn’t eat,” Lauren said in frustration, handing over control to Ashton. “Jesus. I need a shower.”

Ashton managed to coax some food into his kids, but everyone went to bed frustrated, Luke included. The next day wasn’t much better.

“I’m tired,” Lynn declared. Ashton and Luke had only had a half-day of interviews (something Ashton had negotiated before the tour), so she was sitting on Luke’s lap, watching as Luke tried to beat a level in the newest Mario game. It was mid-afternoon, not an entirely ridiculous time for a nap.

As if to prove her statement, Lynn went limp in Luke’s lap, starfishing all over. When Ashton tried to pick her up and move her to the twins’ bunk, she started screaming bloody murder.

“Want Luke,” she demanded, between kicking at her dad as hard as she could.

Ashton scrubbed his tired hands over his face and swung Lynn over his shoulder in one practised move. Lynn hadn’t thrown temper tantrums for years now, neither of the twins had. He’d taught them that screaming wasn’t the way to get what they wanted, and after a week of endless tantrums and Ashton not giving in, they’d learned that the best way to get anything from him was to ask politely.

He hadn’t considered that the stresses of tour, even a five show tour, could be enough to make Lynn homesick enough to throw a temper tantrum.

“I can let her fall asleep here,” Luke offered.

Ashton shook his head. Lynn kept screaming and struggling. When she tried to kick, he caught her legs and pinned them down.

“She’s a big girl--she knows throwing a tantrum isn’t the way to get what she wants.”

“It’s really not a problem,” Luke started.

Ashton shook his head. “Luke, you’re not her dad and this is the call I’ve made. She’s going to bed in her bunk.”

Luke’s mouth shut with an audible click. “Right. Okay.”

Ashton carried Lynn off, still wailing.

“I’m guessing this isn’t the best time,” an unfamiliar female voice said. Luke turned, fully prepared to fend off a fan or a manager or a reporter.

What he saw made his jaw drop.

Bryana pushed her sunglasses to rest on the top of her head. “Hi, Luke.”


	8. viii. hush baby, my heart’s speaking to you

**viii. hush baby, my heart’s speaking to you**

 

Luke fish mouthed.

“This is not at all what I expected,” he said, and continued staring. Bryana Holly looked much the same as she ever had, with long blonde hair and a casual elegance to the way she held herself. Luke had known her fairly well, once, but it seemed like she was vastly different now.

“I can guess that,” Bryana said dryly, swinging her bag down to rest near her feet. “Is Ashlynn okay?”

“She’s having a bad day. What are you doing here?”

“Visitation weekend. Did Ashton not tell you?”

“No,” Ashton said, emerging without Lynn. It didn’t take more than a few seconds for Lynn to be peeking out from the bunks. “Because I thought you know _‘we’ll be in Portland’_ meant we’d have to reschedule.”

“I thought it’d be a nice surprise for the kids. How’s Ashlynn?”

“Tired. Throwing a tantrum.”

“And Bryan?”

“Out back with my sister. I’m surprised you didn’t see them when you were coming in.” Ashton paused. “Hey, Luke? Can you give us a minute?”

Luke looked between Ashton and Bryana, and nodded. “I’ll get Lynn into her bunk for naptime,” he said, and ducked into the bunk corridor, taking Lynn with him. The door slid shut behind him with a quiet but definitive click.

“So,” Bryana said. “How’re you, Ashton?”

“Been better. What the hell are you doing here?”

“Like I said...I thought it’d be a nice surprise. You know I haven’t seen you for longer than it takes to pass over the kids for going on four years now? I wanted to see you as much as I wanted to see them.”

Ashton scrubbed his hands down his face, knocking into his glasses. “Now is not the best time for any of us, B. Not even a little bit.”

“So Ashlynn’s having a bad day!”

“ _I’m_ having a bad day. And I’ve told you--we don’t call her Ashlynn. Or Ashlynn Harriet. We call her Lynn. That’s her _name_.”

Bryana made a face. “Ashlynn’s so much more elegant.”

“She’s five. Elegant applies to tea parties and tantrums, apparently. What are you _really_ doing here?”

“I can’t take an interest in my children’s lives?”

“Not when you gave up all custodial rights.”

“Jesus, but you’re not making this easy, Ash.” Bryana sat on the couch, crossing her ankles. She patted the seat next to her, and Ashton went, just like he always had. “Right. Small talk first, then. Tell me about tour, about Ashlynn--sorry. Lynn. Tell me about Lynn and Bryan--”

“Bry,” he corrected.

“Tell me about Lynn and Bryan’s adventures on tour. I’m sure getting him on the bus was an adventure in and of itself?”

It took half an hour, but their conversation eased, until they were sharing stories carefully, hopefully, and giggling at each other like they once had. After a story about one of her failed romantic interludes, she paused. “I’d like to ask about Luke, but I don’t quite think I have the right.”

“I think you do.”

“So--what’s going on there?”

Ashton sighed. “It’s complicated, B,” he said, and winced at himself for saying that. “I mean--”

“You’ve been living together, your kids love him, you’re bandmates, and you love him, but you also work together. I agree, it’s complicated, both emotionally and logistically.” Bryana could sound like she was mocking him--it would be all too easy--but instead she simply sounded understanding. “He’s your bandmate, you’re worried about the kids, and you’re worried about me. To be fair, I am the immature one here.”

“What--no--I mean--that’s not--”

“You let me go and do my own thing, and you were left behind for a few years. You deserve to be happy,” Bryana said bluntly. She sighed. “I’d have been terrible for them. I’m not mom material.”

“I think you could be.” He looked down, to where his hand was resting on her knee. “But we just happened at the wrong place, wrong time.”

“No, I’m not just meant to be a mom, and I know that. You, though, you’ve always been good dad material.” Ashton kept looking at his lap as Bryana continued talking. “Ashton, you know there’s no way we’re getting back together, right?”

“I don’t like to think about it, but yeah, I’ve known for years. You and me...we made them, and I don’t regret that, but I knew we were always going to be messy. And really--what’s worse, having two parents that are always fighting, or having separated parents and a chance at a stepmum or a stepdad?”

Bryana sighed and shifted over, minutely closer to Ashton. “We’re all messes. I don’t think any relationship is neat and tidy. I don’t think they’d be any fun that way, anyways.”

“You see anyone that’s making you say that?”

“No, but I think that’s a good thing. It took me...awhile to realize I could exist without dating someone.”

“I didn’t…”

“No, you were lovely. It was still hard on my brain. I think I’ve grown, and so have you.”

“We haven’t really talked in years,” Ashton mused. “I’ve missed you.”

“We were friends before we dated, and we never really tried to be friends after...well, after I left you. I think we might be healthy enough to give it a shot now. At least for the twins’ sake. They might like to see their parents in the same place longer than just long enough to hand them off.”

Ashton checked his watch. “Lynn will have been asleep for about an hour now, so I should wake her up soon so she’ll sleep through the night. And Bry’s probably wondering why he couldn’t come back in the bus yet.”

“I’d love to see them. They’re not in school yet, right?”

“They were in half-day kindergarten last year. I pulled them out a few weeks early, since California doesn’t have any mandatory kindergarten laws, but they’ll start first grade in the fall.”

“What’s going to happen to them when you tour full-time? Don’t look at me like that, I know you, I know you want this more than anything.”

“Homeschool, maybe? I don’t...I don’t know.”

“You’ll figure it out. Now,” Bryana said. “Let me see my kids, then I’ll let you be.”

“No, you’ve got to at least stay for dinner. I think we’re planning on some burger place.”

Bryana smiled. “If you don’t think they’ll throw another tantrum.”

Bryana’s presence at dinner was profoundly awkward. Lynn was overjoyed to see her mother, but Bry nearly refused to talk to her, instead clinging to Luke, who felt like he’d waded right into the middle of a family spat, which, to be fair, wasn’t far off of what had happened.

Calum and Michael had joined them, as an extra layer of buffer, but no matter how much Calum chatted with his old party buddy, it was still awkward. Everyone at the table was deeply and profoundly aware of the fact that Bryana had caused the band split--that she’d asked Ashton not to tell, and he’d agreed, and that had led to him falling away.

After dinner, she kissed her kids goodbye, and hailed a taxi. She’d booked a room at a different hotel entirely. Ashton watched the taxi taillights fade into the night, as Bryana left as quickly as she’d come.

“About earlier,” Luke said, startling the hell out of Ashton. The rest of their group was still inside. “I know I’m not Lynn’s dad.”

“Jesus. Are you sure this is the conversation you want to have right now?”

Luke shrugged. “Not sure I want to even consider discussing whatever the hell just happened with Bryana. Does she do that a lot?”

“Not really. This was the first time, unless she’s been ambushing the babysitters.”

“So then that’s not a conversation I want to tackle. What we can talk about is what happened with Lynn earlier.”

Ashton took a deep breath. Luke waited a minute, then two, and when it didn’t seem like Ashton was going to talk, he turned to go back inside.

“I know it’s stupid but...I feel like she’s starting to like you more than me,” Ashton admitted in a rush. Luke blinked.

“For god’s sake, Ash, I’m not trying to take your place. I just--I could offer her comfort that she wanted and needed. She’s four and homesick.”

“And she also knows not to throw tantrums. If I’d let you hold her, she’d throw a tantrum the next time she wanted something, and I didn’t want to deal with screaming toddlers for the next year and a half.” Ashton rubbed his forehead. “Maybe this was a bad idea. They’re homesick, I’m stressed, then there’s the whole. Us thing. Maybe I’m trying to do too much.”

“This is not your fault,” Luke said. “Ash, seriously.”

“If dating you is going to be a problem for them--I need to do what’s best for them.”

“Fuck, Ashton, you think I don’t know that? I want what’s best for them too. I’ll break it off myself if I think I’m bad for you. But they’re safe with Lauren and Calum and Michael. I’m worried about _you_ right now.”

“I just--I can’t have this conversation right now, Luke. I just can’t,” Ashton said, and fled back into the safety of the restaurant.

When they went back, Luke went in the car with Calum and Michael. Ashton stayed with his family.

He and Lauren put the little ones to bed. Tonight, they chose to share Bry’s bunk. Usually Ashton would try to separate them, but he was too exhausted by Bryana’s visit to try another fight. Instead he kissed them both on the head, and sang them their songs. When they finally fell asleep, he went and collapsed in the lounge next to his sister.

“So you wanna tell me what the actual hell happened today?” Lynn asked, looking faintly exasperated.

“If I knew, I would tell you.”

“Well, when you figure it out, tell me. Wanna watch Mad Max?”

“Which one?”

“Fury Road, duh.”

Lauren loaded up her laptop, picked the movie out of her iTunes.

“I never said thank you for naming Bryan after me. It’s...it’s an honor. He’s a sweet kid,” she said, as she settled back down.

“You and Harry were pretty important to me,” Ashton said. “I thought it’d be a fitting tribute.”

“Always thought it’d be me naming my kid after you, not the other way around. You always were like a dad to us, you know? Even when you didn’t have to be.”

“You’re my sister.”

“Half-sister, technically. No, I know you don’t see it like that. Still. I kinda wish you’d have had more time to be in your band and just...not have to worry about anyone else. You had to worry about us, and then the twins...I kind of wish Bryana hadn’t messed everything up.”

“She didn’t, though.” Ashton shook his head. “They’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Yeah, it’s been hard, but...I wouldn’t wish them anywhere else, or at any other time.”

“You know, you can ask for help, you know.”

“What do you mean?”

“You could’ve brought them back home. Mom never moved your stuff out of your room. We’d all have chipped in.”

“You had lives to be getting on with.” Ashton shrugged.

“And Luke? You were fine accepting his help. But not yesterday?”

“I might’ve fucked things up with Luke,” he admitted, sitting bolt upright. “Oh, god. I’ve fucked everything up with Luke.”

Lauren rolled her eyes. “Shoo. Go sleep in Luke’s room. Be disgustingly loud. I’ve got Ashlynn and Bryan. And this movie. Go,” she repeated, when he was still hesitating.

“You’re the _best_ ,” Ashton said. He pecked her on the cheek and darted off. He heard her laugh as she closed the bus door, and went to knock on Luke’s door. He wound through the lobby and up the elevators, and tapped out a brisk rhythm on Luke’s door.

Luke opened up alarmingly quickly, rubbing sleep out of his eyes. He was shirtless, with plaid boxers slung low on his hips. “Ashton? Are the twins--”

Ashton kissed him. It wasn’t a particularly good kiss. Luke was too shocked to properly respond, and Ashton was a little too eager, but it was a kiss nonetheless. Luke pulled back, a grin spreading across his face.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Ashton said, and pressed a palm flat to Luke’s abdomen. The skin there was warm and dusted with fine hair, and Ashton could feel Luke’s diaphragm contracting and expanding as he breathed. “You gonna invite me in?”

Luke took a step back, and another, and another, and Ashton kept pace. The door swung shut behind them. It was dim in Luke’s room, the only light coming from a single bedside lamp. The sheets were mussed on one half of the bed.

“Sorry if I woke you up,” Ashton whispered.

“Don’t be. Though--it might take me a bit to get it up.”

“No, Ashton said. He stripped his shirt over his head. “We can just sleep. And maybe make out a bit. Feels kind of dreamlike.”

Luke grinned and helped Ashton shuck his jeans, leaving his fingers resting against Ashton’s waist. “God, you’re gorgeous.”

“Thanks?”

“I mean it.” Luke looped his arms around Ashton’s neck. “You don’t have to be shy.”

“I’m almost _thirty_.”

“Twenty-seven is not almost thirty.” Luke backed up, pulling Ashton after him. In a deft, deliberate twist, he toppled them into the bed. “Twenty-seven is perfect.”

Ashton huffed out a startled laugh. “Like it’s so much better than twenty-five?”

“Mm. Maybe. Twenty-seven is you, and when you’re twenty-eight, that’ll be perfect, and when you’re thirty and seventy and a hundred, all of those will be perfect. Because that’s what you are.”

“You’re such a nerd,” Ashton said.

“But I’m your nerd.”

Well, Ashton had no answer for that, so he shut Luke up with a kiss.

\--

Ashton woke to an elbow in his ribs and a knee thrown over his legs. Luke slept like a starfish, or maybe a pretzel gone humanoid. He snored too, rumbling grumbles and snorts. He made an awful bedmate, and Ashton loved it.

He relaxed back into the bed, and carefully nudged Luke into a better position. He drifted off again into a pleasant doze and woke fully to Luke humming to himself and checking his phone.

“Morning,” Ashton whispered, treasuring the quiet. He couldn’t remember a single morning where he’d been able to linger in bed in the past five years.

Luke put his phone down. “Hey.”

“Come cuddle.”

“Oh, it’s like _that_ , is it?”

“Shut up and cuddle me,” Ashton whined, rolling over onto his belly to be closer to Luke. He rested his head on Luke’s thigh. Luke let his fingers dance along Ashton’s shoulder blade. When he paused, Ashton knew Luke had found the tattoo there.

“No safe investment?” Luke asked, skimming his fingers over the spiraling suns tucked there and the looping words written between.

“ _There is no safe investment,_ ” Ashton said, reciting from memory. “ _To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything, and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly be broken._ CS Lewis. I got really into theology for a while.”

“So--you mean, don’t love? Is that what it means?”

Ashton heard the vulnerability there and immediately wanted to reassure him. He rolled over and found himself nose to nose with Luke.

“Just the opposite,” Ashton whispered.

Luke’s gaze was deep and so, so blue.

“Love hurts. Love will always hurt. It’ll never be safe, you’ll always have the potential to be hurt. But it would be so selfish and so much worse to never love at all. I could have saved myself a lot of hurt by not loving Bryana. I made a bad investment of my love and my time then. Lynn and Bry--I’m literally investing everything in them. I still love them, even though they could throw everything back in my face. And you--you’re the least safe of all.” Ashton took a deep breath. “The quote goes on for a bit, but then it says _the only place where you can be perfectly safe from all the dangers and perturbations of love is Hell_. And I figured--if the alternative is Hell, then, why not love as much as I can?”

“Ash--”

“I’m not done. I’m--I’m investing my heart in you, and maybe it’s a bad idea and maybe it’s a good idea, but it’s definitely not _safe_.”

Luke leaned forward the barest of inches and kissed Ashton as deeply as he could.

This time, in the early morning light, the kiss gave way to something more. Luke’s hands were warm and sure, his mouth damp and his kisses searching. Ashton kept pace, giving as good as he got.

After, when they were luxuriating in the afterglow, panting, Luke drew shapes on Ashton’s stomach with his fingers.

“Be my boyfriend?” Ashton asked. Luke stilled.

“You sure?”

“Absolutely.” Luke scrambled into Ashton’s lap, cradling his face and kissing him. “If you’ll have me, absolutely.”

Ashton took another kiss. Luke sighed happily into it, melting bonelessly into the touch.

“Well, the kids like you,” Ashton started.

“Oh, if the _kids_ like me--”

“And I love you,” Ashton added pointedly. “So that’d be a pretty good reason.”

“No small investment,” Luke murmured, and bit at Ashton’s earlobe.

“No safe investment,” Ashton corrected. “It’s not safe, but...what good thing is?”

Luke rolled his eyes, and then distracted Ashton with kissing.

Ashton had forgotten how nice kissing just to kiss was. Here, in this hotel room with sunlight drifting in, Ashton let himself be close to Luke, this man who had known Ashton for so long and fit in so seamlessly to his life now. Here, Ashton let himself be happy, and here, Ashton knew this could--this _would_ \--last.

\--

Life went on, afterwards. Luke’s alarm went off, so they got dressed and zipped up Luke’s suitcase, and met in the lobby for bus call.

Lauren had already herded the little Irwins into the bus and had them settled in with the iPad and some brightly colored educational videos on youtube. Their brightly colored headphones were oversized, but the twins were so absorbed that they didn’t even look up with Ashton and Luke boarded the bus.

On the couch, Michael had his head in Calum’s lap, shamelessly begging a head massage while Calum disinterestedly flicked through the morning news channels. Lauren was mucking about in the kitchen, probably trying to get the coffee-maker to work.

“Good morning, lovebirds,” Michael called, with no head behind it. He looked pretty boneless, so Luke supposed the head massage had been going on for awhile. “I didn’t know Portland was the second city of love.”

“Fudge off,” Ashton grumbled. He kept his fingers laced with Luke’s. “Like you’re any better.”

“I am the most comfortable human being to ever comfort. I’ve got my BFF--”

“--I resent that term--” Calum said, finally settling on a weather channel.

“--and my band, and there’s, fuckin’ tiny humans over there, lookit’em, they’re adorable--”

“Did you just call my children _fucking tiny humans_?”

“--and I’ve got redbull and head scratches, and if my biffle would just tap his foot again--”

“--I resent that term even worse, you can call me your BFF again--”

“--I’ve got the start to an awesome song. So I’m doing pretty good. _And_ one of the PAs is running through McDonalds so I’m gonna get a Sausage McMuffin for breakfast.”

“Someone say Sausage McMuffin?” Zoe asked, stepping into the bus, bearing three McDonalds bags. “Good timing, that.”

“Oh my god you are my favorite person,” Michael said, and jackknifed up to claim his breakfast. “You’re eating with us, right?”

“Unfortunately not. I’ll be on Bus 2 if you need me, so try not to need me.”

“Love you too, Zoe!” Calum called as Zoe left, having abandoned the paper bags on the table next to the twins.

Breakfast was quickly distributed and everyone settled in to munch as the bus rumbled to life beneath their feet. It was quiet and easy--Lauren took the twins to the back lounge, where they were working on learning to read. Zoe had remembered Ashton’s dietary preferences and gotten him an egg and cheese sandwich, without any meat. He’d have preferred no egg, either, but he wasn’t going to be too choosy.

Feeling mischievous, Luke flicked a piece of paper at Calum, who chucked his sandwich wrapper at Ashton in turn.

“So, something you guys wanted to tell us?” Michael said, catching the ketchup packet Ashton threw his way.

Luke and Ashton exchanged glances.

“We’re trying something,” Luke said, putting his sandwich down on his lap. “Trying something that started a long, long time ago.”

Calum inhaled sharply. “You’re not in too deep, Luke?”

“I think I’ve been in too deep since I was, like, fifteen.”

“Aww, love at first sight,” Michael teased. “But seriously--that’s like, what, a decade of your life?”

“Something like that.”

“So, I’ve gotta ask,” Calum said, abandoning his food and leaning forward. “Bryana was here the yesterday--that have anything to do with the sudden love-fest?”

Ashton rolled his eyes. “She told me to grow a pair, if that’s what you mean.”

“Funny, I was always sure she wore the pants in your relationship, but that’s weird way to confirm it.”

“Not a cool joke, Mike,” Luke said sharply. Michael briefly looked ashamed of himself before nodding. “But, yeah. She talked with me too.”

“She did?” Ashton asked. This was news to him.

“Yeah. Don’t worry about it, though. I’ll tell you later.”

“I’ll hold you to that.”

\--

**Six Months Later**

“So I booked my flight back to Australia,” Lauren said, coming into the kitchen and dropping a sheaf of papers onto the table.

“Wait, you can’t _go_ ,” Ashton said, nearly knocking over his glass of orange juice. “We still _need_ you.”

Lauren had spent the past six months helping Luke and Ashton move in together, had helped them pick out a long-term nanny, and had been largely hands-off for the past month or so. She’d told them, loudly and often, that she was going to home soon; Ashton just hadn’t believed her.

Lauren shook her head. “You don’t really need me right now,” she said. “I’ll be leaving on Thursday. You and Luke are able to do this on your own.”

“But Luke--”

“Luke’s not going anywhere. Trust me.” She patted him on the arm. “He might not be their guardian, but he loves you, _and_ them. The two of you--you can take care of everything. I’ve been here almost a year, Ashton. You don’t need me anymore.

\--

They all piled into Ashton’s’ SUV to see Lauren off at the airport. Lynn and Bry sobbed, because their Auntie Lauren had been such a fixture in their lives and now she was _leaving_ , and neither of them particularly understood why. Lynn clung to Lauren’s leg, while Bry insisted that Luke hold him, which Luke did, humming and rubbing Bry’s back.

Ashton didn’t realize he was staring until Lauren elbowed him. She knelt to kiss Lynn goodbye, then stood to repeat the process with Bry and Luke.

After a whispered conversation, Luke took Bry and Lynn off to the side, helping them pick out packets of gum and a magazine for Lauren to read on the flight.

“So you’re leaving,” Ashton said, shuffling his feet. Lauren punched him in the shoulder.

“I told you--you’ll be fine.” She brought him into a tight hug. “I’ll miss you and the little ones. But I’m not their mum, and they don’t need me to try to be.” Her messenger bag was sliding off one shoulder, and she hefted it back up. “I love you, Ash.”

“Love you too, Laur,” Ashton managed.

“Bring the littles to come visit sometime,” she said. “Harry still hasn’t met them and he’s _furious_.”

“He can keep being furious until he tries to fly with two six year olds. Or, well. Six and a half year olds. You can’t stay longer?”

“Considering that term starts in a week, no, I can’t.” She hugged him again. “Let’s collect your brood and you can walk me up to security.”

She waved as she went through the security checkpoint, and then she was gone. Ashton didn’t realize he was crying until Bry reached up and patted his tears away.

“Come on,” Luke said quietly, resting his free hand on Ashton’s lower back. “Let’s go home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that's the end! I have an epilogue I'm toying with, but I don't think this story needs it, necessarily.  
> Thanks for sticking with me!! Feel free to get in touch with me on tumblr; I'm at both satellitesandfallingstars and gravityinglass. :D

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked it! Let me know through comments, please?  
> See you next Monday (or if you want to chat before then, track me down on Tumblr, at satellitesandfallingstars!)!!


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